


Before the War

by Zenobia1



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Assassination Attempt(s), F's in the chat for Sans, Good W. D. Gaster, Graphic medical procedures, Humans like their guns here, Kidnapping, Medical Procedures, Poisoning, Sans can't drink, Sans gets PTSD, Seizures, Skelefam, Violence, baby bones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27885802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenobia1/pseuds/Zenobia1
Summary: Sans is 8, Papyrus is 3 and Gaster is just trying to be a good dad. Tension between humans and monsters are at an all time high.They are the last three skeletons left, and someone is on a mission to wipe them from the face of the earth.Somehow, Gaster has to keep his boys safe.
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So in this world, the story is set before the war. Sans and Papy are still children, Gaster still works as the royal scientist and Alphys is his coworker. 
> 
> But things get pretty graphic even in the first chapter, mentions of guns, violence and angst.

“This is a social event, a corporate gala if you will,” Gaster informed his eldest son, slipping on his lab coat and grabbing the small blue hoodie for his curious son, “That means no needless jokes. No misbehaving. Any of your typical disobedience puts me in a negative light.”

Sans shrugged on his hoodie, battling with the sleeves. They always got stuck on his arms.

“ok. you can count on me.”

“Can I?”

“yeah.”

Gaster met his gaze, “Oh. If anyone offers you alcohol, do ensure that you refuse.” It took place at a bar; it was probably crawling with alcoholic beverages.

Sans tilted his head, his eyes full of wondering interest, “why not? i’m eight years old now, you can’t tell me what to do.” He was rather looking forward to trying his first sip of alcohol, too. Everyone was always raving about it.

The human age of drinking was 16 in New Town, the monsters however only needed to be… 7.

Something about the way magic processes alcohol as opposed to humans? It was too science-y for Sans to understand right now.

But even when he was a baby bones, he was _never_ allowed to secretly try it. Not even a free spirit like Asgore allowed him to sneak a sip growing up. His father was very strict about it.

Gaster’s expression closed up as he reaffirmed his demand, “Just… trust me. Just this once, do as you’re told, Sans. Never do so much as even _think_ about alcohol. Do you understand?”

Sans glared at his annoying father petulantly and nodded. “kay.” Maybe it was a weird family tradition. Which wouldn’t make sense, because his father had the occasional glass of wine. Maybe they didn’t believe in it until he was a certain age? … Oh well. Who knows?

“Sans,” oddly, his father knelt in front of him, staring him fixedly in the eye. “Promise me that you will not touch any alcohol.”

The younger skeleton rolled his eyes and squirmed, “i promise! jeez.” His father’s eyes were uncertain, but apparently settled for the promise and stood back up.

“Good. Let’s go.” He reached for the door, swinging it open and was about to step a foot about before his son spoke again.

“wait,”

Gaster stopped walking and turned to him, “Hm?”

“um,” Sans clasped his hands together and rocked on his heels, “what about papy?”

“What about him?”

“is he coming?”

Gaster smirked, “No, Sans. Papyrus is not coming with us to a tavern.”

“oh,” he would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit disappointed. “ok.”

Papyrus was five years younger than him, so supposedly it would be a while before they could attend one of these ‘corporate events’ as a family.

“He is being looked after by Alphys.”

“alphys?” Sans curled his fingers; the name sounded familiar, “that’s one of your co-workers, right?”

“Yes,” Gaster sighed, ushering him along, “Now _come on_.”

**...**

**...**

**...**

“Hey.”

Surprise dominating his features, Sans spun around to meet the source of the voice. It was a teenage kid, a little taller than him, although a human male with scruffy brown hair.

“hey,” Sans frowned—he had never seen this person before. “what’s up?”

The human offered a smile, “You’re a skeleton, right? Skeleton monster? One of the last ones?”

“…yeah? what’s it to you?”

The human’s lips curled curiously, taking a careful step forward. Sans took another step back.

“Dude, don’t be so weird like that,” the man laughed him off, to which Sans chuckled albeit hesitantly alongside him. “I’m real curious about you skeleton people, y’know. I heard you’re like, way more powerful than other monsters.”

“uh,” Sans clenched his jaw, “yeah. we have a strong bloodline and we’re the last so, i guess yeah.”

“Cool,” the teenager shrugged, “Why’re you here anyway? My parents dragged me along to this place for a meeting thing. Kinda weird to have one in a tavern.”

“yeah, same,” he folded his arms together, taking a small breath before continuing, “dad’s part of a science committee thingy and he has to attend with some colleagues.”

“Really?” the young man laughed sarcastically and gestured over his shoulder, “’Cos to me it looks like he’s just sitting on his own.”

Sans didn’t even need to turn around to know he was telling the truth. His dad was like that. “yeah, he does that. not a very people person. at least not… you know…” _not when he gets obsessed with his experiments,_ “but it doesn’t matter.”

“Nice, wish my dad were that cool. He just sits at home and drinks all day.” the stranger confessed to what Sans supposed was an awfully personal home life issue – were all humans open like this? “Speaking of which, you wanna grab a drink?”

Seriously? They’d just _met!_

Maybe it was a weird human thing, he wouldn’t know. He never interacts with them. But still…

“yeah, uh,” Sans rubbed a hand behind his neck, “i’d love to but i can’t drink.”

The boy frowned, and perhaps seemed slightly irritated, “Why not? Not even a sneaky one?”

“i dunno,” Sans shrugged, “i just can’t.”

_dad is so freaking vague i don’t even know why i can’t do these things._

“Huh,” the stranger gestured towards the bar and smiled, “No worries, I’ll grab a drink and you can have… whatever you monsters have.”

That worked.

“sure… but i have no money.” he began to walk over to the bar stools with his new friend, suddenly sure within himself that perhaps making a _human_ friend was indeed possible.

“I can buy; you good if we hang out with my mates?”

“your…” Sans blinked, “mates?”

“Yeah, I’m here with some buddies of mine to make this whole thing less boring.”

“but why bring me if you’ve got company?”

“Like I said, I’m interested and wanna know more about your species,”

Sans’ eyes searched the teenager’s face for hints of malevolence, before giving in to curiosity.

_damn it. stop overthinking._

“fine, ok, but you do all the talking, i’m just gonna sit and listen.”

That seemed to be fine with his friend. “Sure.”

The two continued to set foot up to the bar, the request for ID and Sans’ own lab ID being accepted only further frustrated him with the fact he couldn’t drink.

There was another three people at a round table waiting for them.

“Hey, Cylo, who's the friend?” a younger looking dude asked them as they sat down at the table.

 _Cylo_ shrugged; so _that's_ his name! “He's a skeleton, and he’s cool.”

“Is he?” the ginger haired boy seemed unsure, his eyes ogling Sans worriedly, “Them skeletons are pretty scary, bro."

_Ah. Thanks for the compliment._

“Ain't it cool?” Cylo smiled towards Sans and jerked his head to the side, “Gonna get our drinks, what'd you want?”

Sans’ brows furrowed with thought, “uh, ketchup.”

All four humans appeared confused. “...Ketchup?”

“yeah?” Ketchup was a human food, right?

“You monsters are weird,” Cylo laughed, but clambered to his feet, “Whatever, I'll be back soon.” The boy walked off towards the bar, leaving Sans alone with the weird human friends. Staring at him.

“So, I’m Harlan,” the auburn-haired boy broke the silence, “That’s Sheila,” he pointed at the blonde girl, then towards another boy with long jet-black hair, who looked slightly younger than Harlan, “And that’s an idiot.”

The boy leered at him, “Shut it! I’m Dorien.”

“uh… cool. i’m… sans. sans the skeleton.”

Sans squirmed uncomfortably under their curious gaze.

_jeez. i'd rather be getting lectured by dad._

**...**

**...**

**...**

The atmosphere had a pleasant aroma to it, there was that, at least. Not the typical smell of liquor, rather an open fire. Wherever that was. Perhaps he should rest there and study until tonight’s events were over.

“Hi there! Could I take a moment of your time?”

Gaster turned around. There was a _person_ gawking directly at him.

And he certainly wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

“Hello.” he offered, hoping his petulant expression gave a hint to the unwelcome visitor that he wanted to be left alone _._

The man, unfortunately, smiled with fascination. Another group of people shortly followed him from behind, probably part of a community. There was four men and two women—all human—who seemed to be wearing smart attire.

“You’re Dr Gaster, right?” one of the women said.

“…Yes.”

They all seemed relieved.

“Great! I’m with the new town science committee. And we _mere humans_ ,” she chuckled, along with the rest of the group, “were just wondering if you’d be willing to talk some more about your projects?”

Not particularly, no.

“Of course,” he raised a brow, “Which project are you interested in?”

Let me guess, the co—

“Why, the CORE of course!”

Indeed.

“We were just wondering how you planned to extend this on the surface? Or is it specifically for the underground residents only? Have you considered working together with us humans for future schemes?”

Gaster averted his gaze at the myriad of questions, then settled for a simple answer, “I hope to expand the CORE to the surface, yes.”

The ‘committee’ seemed relieved, smiles all round. Likely forced.

“Would you be willing to consider joining our board?”

“We’re not sure what kind of incentive monsters aim for, but we’re government funded with a lot of money.”

“If you would just let us know what you need…”

“Yeah, we can—”

He raised a silencing hand.

“You need not offer me an incentive. I will consider your proposal and in due time shall contact you. I also work with my own group of people, I cannot simply leave my post to join another.”

They nodded, “Yeah, don’t worry, we understand. In your own time.”

**...**

**...**

**...**

The table wobbled as a large bottle of ketchup thumped down onto the wood.

“Here you go, weirdo,” a glass was placed alongside the bottle. Cylo walked around the table and sat down, the rest of the group watching him. Not a word had spoken between Sans and the human friends the entire time Cylo was gone.

Sans cautiously sipped the ketchup directly out the bottle, garnering odd looks from the other friends. It tasted slightly _off,_ nothing like the kind of drink you’d get at Grillbys.

“what?” he smirked, taking another swig with a wink, “you ain’t seen someone gargle ketchup before?”

The blonde girl spoke for the first time, apparently attaining some confidence. “Actually… no. You’re kinda weird.”

He snorted, “damn, known you for five minutes and you’re already insulting me.”

The girl snickered to herself, before resting the chin of her head on her hands, “How old are you, kid?”

“uh,” Sans stopped chugging the ketchup and shrugged. “eight. why?”

An expression of humorous surprise passed across the human’s face, “ _Eight?_ You’re too young to be drinking at all!”

Cylo butted in, “Actually, monsters can drink when they’re seven. Their magic can process it better than we can. Ain’t that cool?”

Hurling the bottle back down, Sans blanched, nonsensical color draining from his face as his bones fell cold.

“You ok dude?” a male voice asked, but not Cylo’s.

“yeah,” he muttered, attempting to blink the haze away. Whenever he turned his head, it was as if it took his body several seconds to catch up. “man, that ketchup was crap.”

He blinked hard again.

“i’m gonna…” he slipped out of his seat, not nearly ready when his legs immediately flopped the second he put weight on them. He caught the side of the table, keeping himself upright from pure arm strength alone.

_“Did you do something to him?”_

_“What kind of question is that?”_

_“You did, didn’t you?”_

_“Man, don’t tell anyone I was here, ok?”_

_“Dude!”_

It went silent after that, until he felt a presence by him. The voices earlier were much closer.

The face of Not Cylo formed in front of his blurry vision. “Hey, man, sit down. I think he spiked your drink.”

Sans tried to speak but could only make a choking noise. _Spiked my drink?_

“It was only one drink though, what the hell?”

_i need to find dad._

“You knew about this?!”

“i… need to…” he took a step forward, attempting to walk on his own, “need to… find… my…” his eyes rolled back.

**_C R A S H !_ **

“What the hell is going on?”

His mind was dazed with the mystery of his surroundings. Where was he? Who were these people? And most importantly, why was he on the floor?

“Dude, I think Cylo poisoned him.”

“Oh, hell.”

The ceiling was a spinning maze and the multiple faces morphing in and out of his vision were _not_ helping. Something was squeezing the air out of his lungs, yet it felt... calming.

“Hey. Hey! Stay with me, kid. Stay with me. Stay with me!”

“What the hell?”

“What’s wrong with him?”

His fingers began to tingle, akin to the sensation of pins and needles.

Until he lost feeling in them entirely.

“You! Lady! Get us some help!”

Sans gurgled, “dad?”

The seven figures above him didn’t look like his dad.

“Who's your dad, lovely?” a new, mature woman's voice queried, presumably one of the floating people above him.

“dad,” he murmured faintly, “can't breathe...”

“Ok, we need to call 911.”

“Do monsters have a phone number for ambulances?”

“Monster hospitals exist so I guess so.”

“Should we move him to another room?”

“Yeah, there’s a staff room back there somewhere.”

There was no more talking for a while, just the huffing and puffing of nice people carrying him somewhere. Instinctively, Sans knew he should be fighting back against the wannabe kidnappers but lacked the energy to do so.

When he found himself shut away in a quieter, calmer room, he couldn’t help but feel relieved. Maybe these people were trying to help him? If that was so, then...

“dad?”

Where was his dad? Did they know?

“That should be better now,” a blonde woman changed the subject, and Sans was somewhat able to make out the hesitant smile on her face, “You're gonna be ok now. Just relax.”

Relax... yeah...

“Hold on, isn’t this Dr Gaster’s son?”

“... Oh, shit.”

“Dude, we’ll be in so much trouble if he finds out about this…”

“We’ll be in even _more_ trouble if he freaking _dies,_ man! He’s freaking eight!”

“Well I'm not calling him!”

“Neither am I! Don’t fancy my chances of staying alive long enough to live to tell the tale!”

The other teenager, Dorien, hovered above him, shaking his shoulder to get his attention.

“Hey, man, if we tell your dad, you gotta promise you won’t tell anyone your drink got spiked, okay?”

Sans blinked and nodded mutely.

“Cool.”

“I’ll get him.” the young girl; Sheila, wasn’t that her name? - stood up from her kneeling position and darted out the room, leaving the other two to awkwardly watch the incapacitated skeleton.

They watched each other apprehensively, awaiting for support while the skeleton wheezed on the floor.

After a particularly nasty choking sound, the older teenager appeared slightly disturbed and grabbed his arm, “It’s gonna be ok, dude,” he hushed, shaking his head in disbelief, “Again, I’m _really_ sorry about this… really I am.”

Sans tried to smile through gritted teeth, “it’s ok.”

“God,” the man shook his head again, “I swear, I thought, when Cylo said that you couldn’t drink, thought that it was ‘cos they wouldn’t let you, cos they thought it was evil or something.”

Sans squinted, fighting to keep up the smile.

“If I knew… it was because of this… I swear…”

“it’s ok.” Sans clenched his jaw, “not your fault. first time for me too.” Then, he groaned, the noise forming into a shriek as the pain rocketed up in his chest. “ _shit. argh!”_

“Are you ok?” the young man asked dumbly, frowning over the squirming skeleton.

“ _god,_ my chest, _fuck_.” his eyes were squeezed shut, “i’m dying. i’m dying. _i should have listened…”_

“Hey, it’s ok,” his frown deepened as the skeleton’s eyes seemed to fade out and back in again, “Stay awake, ok? Just stay awake until… help… comes.”

There were blue particles ebbing from his bones.

“What the hell…”

The older boy spoke up, “Oh my god, is he dusting?!”

“No way! Hey!” the younger one shook him, “Dude! Wake up!”

“mmm…gh…”

“Crap. What do we do!?”

**...**

**...**

**...**

The air was suddenly rent by the sound of breaking glass.

All humans looked past Gaster’s shoulder towards something behind him, he too pivoting around to find the source of commotion.

“What the hell was that?” the eldest of the group ogled the flock of people clambering together like seagulls.

A woman dismissed him, “Probably just breaking cutlery.”

“Damn careless staff… you’d think with what _we’re_ paying that we’d at least get some competent people!”

A young, somewhat panicked human girl came running up to them, scanning everyone before finally landing eyes on Gaster.

“Dr Gaster?”

Oh, fantastic, another o—

“It’s your son. I-I’m sorry, you gotta come with me.”

He felt the life drain from his eyes.

“What?”

Gaster surveyed the room—the mob of people in the distance suddenly made much more sense. And he was pretty sure he knew what the emergency was.

Running as if within the grips of a nightmare, he turned to the young teenager and demanded, “There’s a black briefcase stored in the guestroom, retrieve it and return to me immediately.”

The girl nodded and immediately ran off the opposite direction.

Approaching the chaos in front of him, he was ushered into a room, four other humans surrounding the lone monster.

It seemed he was correct in his initial suspicions.

He gnashed his teeth at the sight, “ _Damn it, you **stupid** child!”_

His eldest son was tensed up on the floor, shrieking nonsense and clutching his ribs. Blue magic dusted from his extremities, meaning...

“How much has he had?”

Several confused faces looked up at him.

“Sorry?”

“ _How much has he had?”_

A teenage human male, probably around Sans' age, shook his head.

“I don’t know what you mean? I... uhh...”

“We just found him here,” a woman supplied, much more confidently than the other, “He just collapsed.”

Nodding briefly, and missing the unnerved glances of the bystanders, Gaster leaned over and grasped the skull of his son, of whom was still writhing on the floor, “Sans, how many drinks have you had?”

Sans didn’t even seem aware his father was there, eyes glazed over and lost.

“Sans.” Gaster shook him harder, _where is that damned briefcase?_ “How many alcoholic drinks have you had?”

Once again, no coherent response, only repeated delirious whining of the phrases, “can’t breathe,” and “can’t see”.

Grounding his jaw, Gaster snarled as he struggled to capture his aloof son's attention.

“Sans?” he shook him once more, “Look at me, child. It's Gaster. Can you hear me?”

“Dude, he’s just drunk...”

“He is not _drunk_ ,” he hissed, taking Sans wrist and feeling for a pulse, “His body simply cannot withstand the effects of alcohol.”

His pulse was strong and steady, but was uprising, as was his breathing.

“Damn, that must suck.”

It was in fact becoming erratic.

_Damn it._

“Sans, look at me,” he tried again, an eye beginning to glow green as he attempted to soothe him with healing magic. “Look at me.”

Finally, a result. Lost eyes blinked, rolling heavenward and refocusing several times, before ultimately landing on Gaster.

He was distraught, eyelights massive as he panted, “... dad?”

“Yes."

“im dying.”

“How many drinks have you had?”

“mmm...” he attempted to roll away, not getting very far when it resulted in a squeal of pain.

At that moment, the door blew open with a _bang_ , one human armed with a briefcase storming through. His brows drew together at the welcome sight.

_Finally._

“This is it, right?” the teenage female lugged the case over, nearly stumbling over her two feet as she approached the lump on the floor.

“Yes, thank you,” he ripped the box open with haste and collected a bright blue vial, somewhat aware of his son becoming more distressed from beneath him. “It’s alright, child, stay calm.”

“nooo,” Sans murmured, squirming his way out of his father's grasp. Or attempting to.

“Hold _still_ ,” he hushed, grasping Sans’ waist and holding him firmly on his side. “I must neutralise the alcohol before it can do more damage.”

“im sorry!” Sans cried, as if thinking the entire charade was a punishment for drinking. Well, it was _his_ fault for drinking after _explicitly_ being told not to, but this wasn’t a punishment.

“I’m not upset with you,” Gaster mused, “But I do need to do this sooner rather than later.”

“no!” his voice had the inflections of a toddler.

“How are you going to get that vial in him?” a teenage boy spoke up curiously whilst observing Gaster retrieve a small metallic device from his case, “He’s a skeleton!”

Well, Sans already knew how.

The vial was slotted into the device, pressing a finger over the trigger as the hand piece turned on. A rotary attachment spun; a drill piece.

The girl slapped a hand over her mouth . “Oh god...”

“You,” Gaster fixedly stared at the boy, “Hold his shoulders.”

“wait!”

“Uh... oh boy. Okay.”

As soon as two human hands had Sans' shoulders pinned to the floor, Gaster fixed the drill to the top of his hip and clenched his jaw.

“ _ARRGGGHHHHH!!!_ ”

“Oh my stars...”

“st-" Sans couldn’t even finish the singular word before letting out another screech, “ _ARRRRRGGGHHH!! STOP!”_

“Dude, you’re hurting him.”

“I know.”

“ _stooop!!”_ Sans’ fingers scratched the ground as he choked through hyperventilation, breaths sawing in and out when his body struggled to catch up. He groaned, arms shaking erratically. “nnnnrrrghhhh...”

“Breathe through it. Almost done.”

The vial was almost empty, only a few more seconds...

“mmnnnnghhh....” Sans growled into his sleeve, hiding his face as he sobbed lest the others see weakness.

When the vial dripped it's last drop, Gaster at once turned off the device and wrenched it out of his son's hip.

No longer was there blue dust trickling from his eyes and fingers, which means the hasty action must have worked… For now.

Breathing a hesitant sigh of relief, Gaster had about five seconds to process the expressions on the faces around him before the click of a trigger smacked against his skull.

_Ah._

“Don’t touch him.” the man directly behind him grunted.

Gaster blinked. But didn’t move. He connected the dots.

“ _Cylo!”_ he heard someone hiss, “ _What the fuck are you doing?”_

The threat of a monster versus human war, the fact his son was dying, and a gun was currently pointed at his head. Someone was trying to kill them all off.

“…dad?”

“I _said,”_ the human apparently called ‘Cylo’ repeated, “Get away from that… thing.”

Grounding his jaw, Gaster restrained himself from reacting, an unaccountable loathing burned the depths of his soul.

“Dude, he’s just a kid, let him go!”

“I don’t care!” the trigger rammed against the scientist’s skull again - he winced, “There’s only three of these skeleton scum left on the earth. This bastard is the only thing standing in my way.”

Discreetly side-glancing towards his son, he was faintly mindful of shaky breaths Sans was taking.

Yet he could do absolutely nought with what he assumed was a _gun_ pointed at his head.

Apparently, it was time to talk.

“What is it that you want?”

He heard the human sneer, “You, smashed up and dusted, you filthy monster scum.”

“Apologies, I cannot fathom the reason for your behaviour.”

“Of course you can't, you're thick as pig shit!” the gun trailed across his skull, then down his cheekbone, “Hey, where’s the other one?”

“I’m sorry?”

“There’s supposed to be three of ya. Where is it?”

“Out of reach and not on the premises.”

The man tutted and jerked his gun towards his now hyperventilating son. “And what’s up with this one?”

“Considering you knew alcohol was poisonous to him, I presume you already have the answer to that question.”

“Enlighten me, smartass.”

Gaster clenched his jaw. Sans really didn’t have long if he couldn’t get to him soon.

“Do you really think I am going to give you a detailed account into my son's medical history?”

“I have you at gunpoint.”

“I fail to see the relevance.”

“Fine,” the gun returned to his temple, “How long does he have?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Great, two birds with one stone. You can watch him die,” he was suddenly caught in a headlock, gun under his chin, “And you… you’re so much weaker than I thought.”

Sans was wheezing now, short gasping breaths signalling his magic was severely disrupted, his body beginning to shut down.

Glancing between the corner of his eye and his dying son, Gaster rammed himself out of the captors grasp, grabbing Sans and pulling him into a close embrace.

A shot fired off from behind him, and Gaster barely registered the hole in his upper sleeve.

“Stop whatever you’re doing or the next one goes in your skull.”

The father regardless ignited a green eye and discreetly summoned Sans’ soul, the magic covering his shaky body.

“I said put him down!” another shot went off at the ceiling, causing the other humans to gasp.

Gaster remained calm. “I’m only relieving him of his unprecedented suffering. Grant us at least that.”

The man snorted, his eyes hallows of madness, shaking his head as if about to refuse him the request. Fortunately, he lowered the firearm a touch. “As soon as he’s dead I’m blowing you both to smithereens.”

Well, that was something. A few minutes was all he needed.

Switching to his native dialect to avoid eavesdroppers, Gaster grasped his son's hands.

“ _Sans.”_

_“Sans look at me.”_

Sans whimpered. His extremities were limp, body shivering uncontrollably like a human starved of oxygen. Right now, a monster was starved of healthy magic.

_“You need to breathe. I know it’s hard. But your body is in distress.”_

_“c…can't.”_

_“I know, but you must try.”_

_“what's happening? i can't... why is he m-m-mad at me?”_

_“You have not done anything wrong. It will be alright.”_

_“m'scared... can we j-just go home?”_

_“Soon. Unfortunately, we cannot teleport just yet. They knew the effect alcohol has on you, and he undoubtedly knows about teleportation too.”_ he winced when he tried to push through more magic, his own body fighting to use all of it for the gunshot wound.

The second his eye flashed either blue or red, there’s no telling what this ‘Cylo’ person would do.

“ _I'm using magic to heal you the best that I can. Latch onto that and take some of my soul magic.”_

_“im too tired...”_

_“Just try, Sans. Please.”_

He felt a faint tug at his soul, an attempt in vain to borrow functional healthy magic.

 _“but… what about you?”_ a tiny voice whispered, _“he shot you!”_

The father couldn’t help but smirk, _“I can heal from this. Your life is in more immediate danger.”_

_“but…”_

“Stop talking freaking celtic!” the gun was waved in his face again, “Talk standard!”

Pursing his mouth, Gaster held his tongue and continued to remain in control. Avid eyes flashed with anger before turning his attention back to his son.

_How on earth am I possibly going to get out of this one?_

Refusing to take his eyes off Sans, the father’s soul fluttered with a vague terror when the young skeleton’s whimpering stopped and suddenly fell flaccid.

Rationality now a thing of the past, Gaster’s pale eyes flickered between shade of a red and blue, scarcely perceiving the loud bang that sounded behind him before the room was no more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of an assassination attempt on the family leaves everyone terrified. Little Papyrus is trying to understand what's going on, Alphys tries to take charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My poor skeleton family. Who is trying to kill them, and how far will they go?   
> Featuring cute baby Papyrus :D

_Refusing to take his eyes off Sans, the father’s soul fluttered with a vague terror when the young skeleton’s whimpering stopped and suddenly fell flaccid._

_Rationality now a thing of the past, Gaster’s pale eyes flickered between shade of a red and blue, scarcely perceiving the loud bang that sounded from behind before the room was no more._

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

“I can have big chocylat cookie pwease?” three-year-old Papyrus pleaded to the kind yellow monster; she was about his brother’s height, perhaps a little bit taller.   
The reptile glanced at him, pity in her eyes, before wilting, her face torn with conflict.

“Papyrus… if I keep feeding you cookies all day your f-father will be quite um… u-upset with me, haha,” she tried to reason with him, to no avail. The tiny skeleton only gave her puppy-dog eyes. “Oh, man… only one more, okay?”

His eyes lit up with enthusiasm, “Yay! Fank very much! You are the best skelesitter ever!”

Alphys rubbed a nervous hand behind her neck and smiled, “Hahah… if you say so! Thanks, Papyrus!”

Papyrus chomped down on his ninth chocolate cookie of the day, being careful not to finish it as quickly as before, as he was not allowed another. Which was kind of silly because Alphys had a whole jar full of cookies!

Granted, it was probably because daddy keeps them as an incentive for being good… maybe if there was none left there would be no more cookies for being good. And that would mean Sans wouldn’t have any either…

Speaking of his brother, a blue flash of light encompassed the room, much like a lightning strike, heralding the arrival of his family. He jumped up with excitement and flapped his arms to Alphys.

“Yay! Sas and daddy are back!”

The other monster nodded with a slight smile, before glancing over to the wall clock. “Oh, they’re a little early… that’s okay though! I’ll…!” she watched the three-year-old sprint out the room, sighing at his hyperactive behaviour. Papyrus was kind of a handful, but weren’t all kids this age?

Jumping and dancing the width of the lab to find his father and brother, Papyrus scanned the room expectantly for Sans to come running up to him.

But nobody came.

Sagging, the little skeleton slowed to a halt, opening every door he could find in case they were playing a mean game of hide-and-seek. “Sas? Daddy?”

Opening the door to the main entrance of the lab, Papyrus’ limbs ran to marble at the sight of his only family sleeping on the floor.

He gasped, slapping a tiny, shocked hand to his mouth, unsure of what they were doing or why they were so sleepy. But an instinctive feeling in his gut told him it wasn’t for a very good reason.

“Daddy? Sas?” his eyes searched them for movement, but there was none.

Then, he saw something. Purple water pooling on the floor. He blinked, convinced his eyes were deceiving him. Why was the water purple?

Maybe they were just very sleepy after their secret trip outside, but wasn't it weird that they wanted to nap on the floor? Well, he couldn’t carry them. He’ll ask Alphys to do it.

Waddling back over to where he started, he found Alphys reading a big book about science, tiny glasses situated on her head. “Um…” Papyrus tugged at her white lab coat, obtaining her attention.

“Oh! D-did you get lost?” she chuckled and placed the book down, “Uh… here, I-I’ll come with you!”

Papyrus shook his head, “Nope! I found it all by myself! Can you carry people?”

Alphys frowned, “Can I… carry people?”

“Yeah!” he threw his hands in the air, “Daddy and Sas are sleeping on the floor!”

Her expression crumpled, “What!? Oh god!” she jumped out her seat and ran past Papyrus before he had a chance to blink. Overshadowed by a deep boding, Papyrus galloped after Alphys, confusion squeezing his small soul.

Skidding to a halt in the big wide lab, Alphys uttered a _bad word_ at the sight of Papyrus’ sleeping family.

“Um... oh god, what do I do? Uh...” she hurried to his father's side and the pool of purple he was laying in first, gently rolling the tall man onto his back. She stifled a cry at his condition.

Papyrus curled his scared fingers, “What wrong wid daddy?”

Alphys shuddered a sigh, searching him for some reason. “There's... u-uh...” she swallowed, taking out her phone and holding it to her ear.

Papyrus waited.

“H-Hello? Um, it’s Dr Alphys, I'm in the SL1 wing of the lab and need immediate assistance,” her voice was oddly calm, steady for her usual demeanour. “Both Dr Gaster and his eldest son are injured. I-I don’t know what happened, Gaster has two gunshot wounds to the arm and ribs and I think its grazed his soul, he's leaking magic,”

She then turned to Sans, “And his son doesn’t have any wounds, but his breathing is really shallow, I don't know what... happened... u-uh...” she sat back in awe when she found the scientist half-lidded and presumably awake beside her. “Just, come really quickly, okay?”

Alphys hung up the phone and turned her full attention to Gaster.

“A-Are you ok? I'm so sorry I didn’t know the meeting would turn out like this! They just wanted to talk and said being on the committee would help--"

“ _Alphys,”_ the man hissed through clenched teeth and hardly cognizant eyes, “Sans... is... he’s... poisoned...” He sharply inhaled and jutted his head towards his son, “Alcohol...”

Her eyes widened, “P-Poisoned? What... why would they...”

“You know the drug he needs,” Gaster murmured, eyes fluttering shut and pinging open again, “Just...” once again, the man fell limp, as unmoving as he was mere minutes ago.

Papyrus swallowed. Everything sounded really serious and scary. “Can... can you fix daddy and Sas?”

“I...” Alphys sighed, shaking her head, “I-I don’t know, Papyrus... help should be here soon... I hope...”

Did someone hurt them? Alphys seemed really worried... maybe they were not sleepy and were actually not well...

“Decthalimoxane...” Alphys muttered a really long word to herself, sifting through the white cabinets for medicine, “I hope I'm thinking of the right thing... I can't even find it...”

Out the corner of Papyrus’ eye, he noticed his dad beginning to stand. Oh, was he all better now?

Alphys caught the manoeuvre and ran back down to him, “Dr Gaster! No! What are you doing!? S-sit down, don’t st-stand!”

Gaster wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He stumbled haphazardly towards the lab tables, in search for the drug his colleague couldn't find. “Third box, second draw... down.”

“Daddy?” Papyrus flapped his arms anxiously, “What wrong with Sas?” It was very normal for him to be sleeping all the time, why were they so worried?

“I-I’ll get it!” Alphys grabbed a small glass thingy before his dad could and put it inside another weird metal thingy with a big pointy end, handing it over to Gaster. Then he headed over to Sans with it.

“Wait!” Papyrus ran over to Sans’ side before his dad could get there, “Dun hurt Sas!!”

Gaster drew out a long breath, “Papyrus, I am not going to…” he grunted and pitched forward, nearly toppling over the three-year-old while he was at it.

“Daddy!”

“Oh, no!” Alphys panicked, hobbling over to the three downed skeletons, kneeling beside them and taking the weird device out of his father’s hands before he could puncture himself with it. “I’ll… we’ll do that later…”

“ _No,”_ Gaster hissed, still struggling onto his side on the floor, “He needs it _now.”_

“But…” she shook her head at the cold look the scientist was giving her, “Ok, ok, hold on,”

Papyrus couldn’t exactly see what the yellow creature was doing, but she was leaning over his brother with the pointy thingy, his dad looking on as if to ensure whatever she was doing was done properly.

“Dun… dun hurt him, pwease…”

Alphys didn’t turn around, “I’m… I-I’m not gonna hurt him, I-I promise…” she murmured instead. Papyrus could tell by the look on his father’s face that he was getting impatient, but she must have done it immediately after the fact as his face softened.

Gaster shut his eyes, “Good…”

“There,” Alphys seemed quite pleased with herself, “A-All done…”

And then came the imperfect timing—the calvary arrived, three people storming into the room, probably as per Alphys’ request on the phone. Two of them appeared to look like cats, the other a human.

“O-Oh!” she stood up to greet them as they circled them, “S-Sorry I… I wasn’t sure what to do…”

“It’s okay!” the first grey cat-like creature got to them faster than the others, as skittish as Alphys without the anxious stuttering. The other two followed behind, an odd air of hostility between the other black cat and the human.

The two cats hauled Sans up with an equal effort between them, leaving the human to stand around on their own whilst Sans was transported to another room. He paced in circles for a bit, before heading over to Gaster, who was still keeled over on his side. “Hey, are you…?”

As soon as the human came within the proximity of sight, a deranged anger rioted into Gaster’s previously vacant eyes. One giant skull suddenly formed into creation, sending the human veering back several steps against the wall.

“What—!?”

Alphys drilled the elder scientist with look of stunned stupor, watching Gaster quiver with restrained grief as his eyes refused to wrench themselves away from the horrified, cornered human.

“Ngh...”

Recapturing herself quickly, Alphys stepped defensively in front of her human co-worker, protecting him from the imminent threat that was seconds away from being unleashed.

“G-Gaster!” she threw out an arm, forming a protective barrier between the human and the monster, “H-He’s with us! It’s ok! It’s Chanet! Rubin Chanet! He’s a colleague!”

A look of uncertainty swelled in the man’s eyes, apparently lost to reality. But Alphys didn’t move. It took a moment, but eventually the giant skull fizzled out of existence. Then, his form simply sagged, slumping onto his back with an exhausted sigh.

One of the cat creatures ran into the room to see what the commotion was about.

Papyrus’ mouth wobbled with worry. Sans had been taken into another room away from him and his dad was acting strange.

“W...Why daddy and Sas not good?”

The cat creature didn't meet his eye, only exchanging glances with Alphys before shrugging. “I don’t know. I would guess they got attacked.”

“They okay?” Papyrus rubbed his little hands over his arms, watching the human and grey feline circle his father.

“Hopefully, yes,” The cat creature finally made contact and smiled warmly at him.

Papyrus could do nothing but only stand behind and hope that his brother and dad would be okay.

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

After many hours of trial and error, the group had both Sans and Gaster stabilised again in the lab. The latter, of course, was still standing around and refusing to rest, overseeing his son's care and ensuring he doesn’t deteriorate.

But nobody had told Papyrus what was happening. He felt very left out of the loop to only simply observe, and luckily for his personality type, hope for the best. So, he just kicked his legs impatiently on his bed, waiting for the little yellow monster to come back.

“H-Here, Papyrus,” Alphys was as nice as ever, though, handing him a soft blue blanket to comfort him with, “I-It's from your dad's supply closet!” she grinned apprehensively, despite herself.

“Yay!” Papyrus couldn’t get himself wrapped up inside it fast enough, his small form easily fitting him snug inside the cosy cotton. “Blankie!” He managed to get himself all comfy, before a question piqued his interest. “Um… is Sas okay?”

The reassuring smile he received in return made his nerves drop away. “Y-Yeah! He’s okay! Dr Ga—your dad managed to reverse the effects, he’s okay.”

Papyrus nodded happily, “And is daddy okay?”

“Yes,” Alphys repeated once more and gave him a rub on the shoulder, “He’s okay too.”

That was great news! “Cool! I’m so glad daddy and Sas is ok!” he cheered, then hugged himself, “Can I see them?”

“U-uh, sure?” Alphys patted him forward, “They’re just back in the lab!” It was very convenient to have a lab just below their house, kind of like a basement!

He skipped all the way back down to the elevator.

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

When he entered the lab, he found Sans fast asleep in bed, his face relaxed and pain-free. It was a sleeping place for the subjects of experiments, although, that had been put on hold for the past few months. Which meant they were all alone down here. With the addition of staff, of course.

His dad seemed to be working, one hand propping his head to the side, clearly bored or tired. Probably both.

Papyrus waddled up to him, blanket still in hand. “Daddy?”

The man jolted as if he had actually been sleeping, swerving around and spotting the lonesome young skeleton. His eyes were slightly dimmed, sockets sunken and surrounded with dark blue patches.

“Hey, Papyrus,” he motioned for the child to come forward. So he did. “Are you alright?”

Papyrus nodded. “Got all lonely in my room and I was all worry and can’t sleep and wanted to see you and Sas!!”

Gaster gave a half smile, “Oh dear. Is Alphys not keeping you company?”

“She is..." Papyrus pouted; Alphys was nice and very kind to him, but he wanted to be with his family.

“Well, Sans is sleeping, but he should be waking up tomorrow. It's best to let him rest tonight.”

“I know...” the small skeleton tightly curled his fingers around his blanket, averting his gaze to the floor. He heard his father sigh, and for a moment he thought he was in trouble. Surprisingly not.

“Come here.”

He didn't look very angry...

Pursing his mouth, Papyrus wobbled up to him, smiling with glee when his father held out his arms to pick him up. He squealed.

“Yay!”

“Yes,” the scientist groused, grunting as he lifted his son. Papyrus was held tightly, pulled up to his father’s shoulder, a hand gently rubbing up and down his back. “Quiet.”

“Okay...”

_Guess I shouldn’t wake Sans..._

Papyrus was cosying up all nice and comfy in a ball against his father's ribs, when he heard a barely audible grunt.

He shifted himself to look at his dad's face.

“Dat hurt? When I move like dat?”

Gaster offered him a barely restrained pained smile. “You are very perceptive for your age, Papyrus.” He chuckled, ”But I am alright.”

“Kay...”

They remained like that for a while, Papyrus sitting in his father's lap whilst he thumbed circles gently into his arm, until finally he was able to drift off to sleep.

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

The next time he woke up, Papyrus was not in fact curled up on his father’s lap… but in his brother’s. Dozily glancing up, he was elated to find that his brother’s eyes were half-lidded but awake, Papyrus’ own soul stricken with a superfluidity of happiness.

“Sas!” he whispered excitedly, sitting up more to see if it was really true. Sans gave him a lazy, tired grin.

“heya pap.”

“Sas!” Papyrus repeated with a squeal, flinging his now wide-awake arms around his older brother and squeezing him tightly so that he would never go away again. “You okay??”

“im ok,” he rubbed Papyrus playfully on the head, “been awake for a few hours now.”

“Oh…” Why didn’t Sans tell him that he was awake? It didn’t really matter if he was disturbed from his sleep—it wasn’t even disturbing, he _wanted_ to be woken up to find his brother.

“sorry for not telling you,” It was as if he was able to read his mind. “dad’s mostly been doing tests, and that’s really boring.”

“Yeah,” Papyrus chuckled, still reeling over the fact his brother was okay, “Dats boring. But it ok, as long as you ok!”

Sans chuckled as well, “im ok, pap. promise.”

Their happy moment was conveniently ruined (or not) by their father entering the room, bemused at the sight before him, undeniably relieved that his two sons were alive and okay.

“Good morning, Papyrus,” the man gestured towards him, before turning to Sans, “And Sans, how are you feeling?”

Papyrus leapt up from the bed and onto the floor, “Yay! All okay now!”

“fine,” Sans mumbled from behind, suspiciously quiet as if hiding something, but not enough so that it could be called a lie.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Gaster strode up to him, eying Papyrus up and down until he got the message and stepped out of the way. “Can you stand?”

“uh…” he shrugged lethargically, rolling onto his side and remaining there for five seconds before his shoulders slumped. “dunno. im tired.”

At his dismissal, Gaster patiently exhaled and took hold of his wrists, “Stand. Try it.”

Groaning, Sans didn’t have any other choice but to attempt to move his fatigued body, grasping his father’s hands and using them to force himself to sit upright. He blinked dizzily, the room doing circles around him as his eyes tried to adjust.

Sans’ hands were shaking, “pops, don’t think i can stand. sorry.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no reason why you cannot start to walk again. The poison should be completely out of your system by now.”

Grunting, Sans leaned forward and braced against his father’s arms to stand, grumbling as he said, “it’s not poison, it’s alcohol.”

“It was toxic to you, therefore it is poison.”

“it’s alcohol.”

“They are the same thing.”

Sans mumbled something under his breath, probably bad words, before he managed to slide onto his feet. Even from a distance, Papyrus could see his brother’s knees were wobbling, his face was sweating and very clearly should not be standing yet. But their father insisted.

“See? You are quite able to stand.”

Papyrus waited for his brother’s sarcastic retort, but nothing came. His face was blank, as if trying to supress _something,_ maybe an emotion.

“Now, if this human comes back, which they will, you should be prepared for what they may do.”

Human? What human? There was a human here?? In the lab??!

“Where!?” Papyrus couldn’t help but yelp, scanning the room for the infamous creature but almost immediately realised they were not _here,_ per se. He awkwardly glanced down to his feet with embarrassment.

“Papyrus…” Gaster sighed, a beat of silence passing as the man pondered on how he could possibly explain the situation to a three-year-old. “They are not here in this room. But he may very well return in the future. We must be prepared for such a case to occur.”

Papyrus nodded blankly. He had absolutely no idea what his dad was going on about, but it sounded important. So, he pretended to understand, as to appease his father.

“so,” Sans spoke up from his makeshift lab bed, “whaddya propose?”

Gaster cleared his throat, catching the foot of a stool with his ankle and dragging it over, humming whilst he seated himself on it.

“No-one is to leave this house without a member of the royal guard accompanying,” he fixed a glance towards Sans, “And that includes school.”

“aww c’mon man!” Sans threw his hands in the air, “nobodys gonna hurt me in broad daylight on the way to school! i can’t have someone following me everywhere!”

“Yes, well…” Gaster wheeled away from him and towards his desk, “How inconvenient for you.”

Sans growled distastefully in the background.

“Actually,” he spoke up again, flicking through a series of notes before spinning back around to his sons, “Papyrus, do you want to go back upstairs to your room for a while?”

The skeleton jumped excitedly, “Yes! I play! But I keep blanket!”

“You can keep the blanket.”

“Yay!” he ran up to his brother, “I play with Sas!”

He smiled, “sure bro.”

Their father was quick to interrupt their fun plans, “I need to speak with Sans for a moment. Then he can go upstairs with you.”

“Oh,” Papyrus pouted a little but somehow managed to pipe himself up again, “Okay!”

“Hey, uh,” the human made himself known, “I can play with the little guy while you two talk, if you want?”

Judging by the look on the scientist’s face, he was about to refuse, no doubt because of the terrible experience with humans over recent days. But he stopped, analysed himself, then the human, and then shrugged him off. The human was a member of his _staff_ for christ sake.

“Very well. We will only be a moment. Let him take you there.”

The human took Papyrus’s hand, tottering over to the end of the room while the other two skeletons watched them.

Sans frowned, turning his head towards his dad and muttering, “speak to me? about what?”

Gaster murmured back, “One second…” They watched Papyrus skip out the room along with the human, waiting for the lab doors to hiss shut again before relaxing.

Sans sat back in his seat and snorted, “what was that all about?”

The scientist pursed his mouth, flipping through his clipboard again through a seemingly endless maze of paper, before finally stumbling upon Sans’ notes. His notes were separate, stored within a large paperclip that extended upon possibly hundreds of pages.

“damn, you writing a book about me or what?”

“I need to speak with you about Papyrus.”

Sans glanced down at the desk of papers. “dunno if you need your glasses, but that’s my name on there, not pap’s.”

Gaster sighed with exasperation, “ _Yes,_ Sans, I know that. If you would quit making jokes after my every utterance we might be able to get to the point.”

Shrugging, Sans slouched in his seat, gesturing a vague arm movement that just said _go ahead._

A pen was dropped on the table.

“So, your reaction to alcohol was first recorded at…” he leaned in, running a finger across the papers before landing on one in particular, “the age of seven.”

“huh,” Sans leaned in too, “i don’t remember that.”

“Unsurprising. You were in a coma.” he continued sifting through the pages nonchalantly, deciding not to react to the dumbfounded expression that was currently staring him down. “Now, these humans, whoever they are, know of Papyrus’ existence. Undoubtedly in an attempt to scorn me, they will make him a target too.”

“yeah,” Sans tilted his head to the side and vaguely glanced towards him, “but that’s why we can’t leave the house.”

“The fact that they know about your reaction to the substance concerns me. Because they may also assume all of us, if not then Papyrus, would have this reaction also.”

“and…?”

With a sigh, Gaster slammed the papers back down on the clipboard and hurled the object to the side, nearly careening it off the end of the desk.

“He is young and defenceless.”

Sans frowned, “i know, pops,” he put his serious tone on, “i’ll take care of him. we both will.”

“Sans, I don’t think you’re understanding,” he took a breath, exhaling it before continuing, “He is only three. If he has the same condition that you do, and one of these humans gets hold of him, he will die.”

The brother blinked, the chilling thought leaving him at a loss for words and weighting heavy on his soul.

“then we’ll just tell him not to accept anything from strangers.”

Gaster almost growled, “ _Sans,_ I told you the exact same thing, then no less than two hours later I found you unconscious. Papyrus is only three and will not know any better, particularly with him wanting to give everyone and anyone the benefit of the doubt.”

“but that’s only _if_ he has the same problem as me,” Sans grit his teeth, “he might not have it at all. besides, seven is how old you have to be to drink, right? i was seven when it first happened, so it was probably at a birthday party or something.”

“…That isn’t relevant. There are many ways in which he could be tricked into drinking or taking something. He’s **_three_**. Are you **_listening_** to me?”

“yes!” Sans raised his voice, frustrated at his father’s attitude, “i can protect him, damn it! until this is over i’ll never let him out of my sight!”

“You have school.”

“then i’ll stop going to school!”

“…Sans—”

“no! i’ll protect him, okay?!”

Gaster stared him down with a commanding visage. “I believe you. But we must take precautions. And I need to know if he has the same or a similar condition.”

Sans dropped his face into his hands and took a shaky breath, “i don’t like where this is going…”

“I know,” his father sighed, equally as crestfallen as his son, “But we don’t have a choice. We have to protect him. We need to know if he is in danger.”

“damn it, g!” Sans yelled, suddenly standing from his seat, “you’ve said it yourself! he’s _three!_ he can’t—” he flapped his arms around furiously, “…he can’t deal with being in your lab like that! he’ll find it too scary! he’ll try to run away, or he’ll start crying, or—”

“Calm down. You can be there with him, and I am sure he’ll find comfort with his ‘blanket’. Moreover, if he finds it too difficult I can always put him to sleep. But this is something that we have to do to protect him, even if it’s hard.”

Sans was almost crying now, the thought of his brother being forcefully scared was something he would move mountains to protect him from. “oh god…”

He felt something lightly tug at his hoodie. “Sit down.”

“oh god…”

“Sit down, Sans.”

He sat down.

“this can’t be happening. it can’t be. holy crap. they’re gonna kill pap.”

“As I have said multiple times, we can protect him, he will be fine.”

His voice was steadily pitching higher up the octaves. “this is my fault… this is my fault… if i didn’t… if i didn’t just…”

“Sans—”

“god. i should’ve known. should’ve killed that freaking guy when i met his shifty ass. and now he’s gonna keep trying to kill us.”

“Sans, this is not your fault.”

“he’s gonna kill us, and he’s gonna kill pap, and oh god he’s not gonna have a clue what’s going on,” he took a large gulp of air, “he’s gonna kill him, he’s gonna kill him,” another large gulp of air.

“Calm down—”

“he’s gonna die, he’s gonna-gonna-he’sgonnadiehesgonnadiehesgonnadiehesgonnadie—”

 _gasp_ “hesgonnadieitsmyfaultitsmyfaultitsmyfault—”

“Wonderful, among your other seemingly endless list of problems, we can now add panic attacks to the list.”

“hesgonnadiehesgonnadiehesgonnadiehesgonnadie…” he barely registered, if at all, his body being carried into the air, tossed over a shoulder, walked over to a bed, placed down—and still somehow had yet to notice any of it.

His eyes were frantic, bug-eyed, massive white eyelights in search for something to cling to. Frantic hands shook, gasping and muttering gibberish until they discovered his father’s wrists and gripped them like a lifeline.

“nononononono,” he breathed, “hes-hes-hes-hesishesafe? is-is-is-is-safe? that-human-now-with-now-if-is-uh-uh-uh-uh-“

“Sans,” two hands wrestled his own and grabbed his wrists, holding them up as he spoke, “You need to calm down. Papyrus is going to be fine.”

“uh-uh-uh-ah-uh-“ Sans grasped his chest, eyes saucer plates, “cant-cant-cant-cant-br-br-br-br-bre-bre-“

“Alright,” the immediate area was surrounded by a soft green glow, two hands that were grasped around Sans’ wrists moved to the sides of his skull, “Alright, you must breathe, alright?”

“i-i-ca-cant-“

“Breathe, look at me,” Sans’ eyes were wandering around the room and not paying any attention to his father at all, “Hey, Sans, look at me.”

Dazed eyes eventually drifted back over to the source of the noise, the usual pale eyes of his father now a healing green.

“Copy me, alright? Deep breath in for me,” he demonstrated the simple ability to inhale, waiting for his son’s attempt at following, unsuccessfully. “It’s alright. Take a deep breath, like this.”

Finally, he managed to copy without choking.

“Good, now exhale. Like so.” once again, he demonstrated how to breath out. Sans managed to actually mirror the movement with some success this time.

The tears that were spilling out of the young skeleton’s eyes were only hindering the ability to complete the task effectively.   
For a moment, the man was foolish enough to think his son was calming down, before suddenly he flung himself onto his side, suddenly erupting the monster equivalent of vomit onto the floor.

He choked out a sob again, an eye blazing blue before flailing sporadically, “d-d-dad!”

“Oh, heavens.” he cradled his son’s head, trying to speak some sense into him, “Sans, everything is going to be alright. Calm down. Please.”

“n-no-no,” Sans writhed, taking breaths between every single word, “im-d-dy-dying—cantdiecantdie-cant-die-cant-if-die-if-“

“Sans, please…”

“if-die-cant-pr-t-e-ah,” the boy was rigid in his arms, trembling as if a frightened cat.

Seems like this wasn’t just a panic attack, but a full-on nervous breakdown.

Gritting his teeth, and holding his almost screaming son tightly in his arms, he yelled out for help, “ _Can someone get in here!”_

Could they not hear all the commotion? Where on earth were these useless people he called staff?

“d-d-d-d” Sans mumbled the consonant over and over, but the rest of the word refused to come out. “dad,” he gasped, staring up at him with mortified eyes, “imscaredimscaredimscared-“

“I know,” he murmured with as much forced calmness in his voice as he could, “I know.”

“Sas?”

Papyrus stood bewildered by the door, blanket within grasp and most interestingly of all, eyes burning orange.

The human he was supposed to be with came breathlessly charging up behind, “I'm sorry, he was adamant!”

“ohgodgesherehecantseemelikethisohgodphgodohgod-"

“Benzovice, thirty milligrams, _now.”_

“oh-g-g-g-god, oh-g-g-g,”

Papyrus waddled up to him, “S'okay, Sas,” he dropped his blanket onto Sans' body and held his hand, “I okay. Please no cry!”

The two brothers seemed to be able to communicate and call one another from soul power alone, triggering a reaction from the other and illuminating their eyes with the colour of their magic.

Well, this was certainly a new addition to the bloodline. How interesting.

Sans on the other hand was still stealing all the oxygen in the room, eyes desperately shifting from his brother to his father, “nonono its-my-my-f-fa-uh-uh-my-pap-pa-pap-"

Frantic hands ripped themselves out of his brother's grasp.

“Hey, it’s alright, Sans,” Gaster muttered, strengthening his grip on the flailing arms, “It’s alright.”

The human grasped Sans’ left arm, ready to empty the contents of a drug into it when Gaster intervened.

“Actually, hold off on the drug.”

“Why?”

“I have a hunch.”

“Not your fault Sas,” Papyrus hugged his brother, nestling his head against his, “Nothing your fault.”

“n-not-ssss—not…not…not…” the frantic arms grew weaker, becoming easier to control and hold still. “sss…sssss…” Sans trailed off, eyelids shutting as his rapid breathing began to slow down to a normal rhythm.

“Yep! That right!” Papyrus squeezed him tightly, their eyes both glowing vibrantly, “Me and you and daddy get through this all together!”

“p-pap…” Sans breathed, closing his hand around his, “im so- _hic -_ sorry…”

“Not your fault,” his little brother smiled, pulling the blanket up over Sans’ chin, then climbing on top, his tiny figure fitting on top of his ribcage, “We all good!”

Sans was able to relax now, his shuddering chest evening out to soft slow breaths.

“Holy crap,” the human assistant quite frankly stuck out like a sore thumb, sitting back in awe both from the event that had played out before them and these newfound abilities Papyrus had. “What the hell happened?”

“Hmm,” Gaster grasped his son’s hand and thumbed circles into it, much like he did with Papyrus earlier, “I suppose the interaction with the human yesterday coupled with the panic attack just now caused a nervous breakdown.”

The human folded his arms, watching the small monster with pity in their eyes. “Oh man, poor thing…”

“Indeed.” Then he glanced towards the wall clock, taking note of the time and turning his attention back towards Sans again, “Alas, you are no longer required to be here now. Thank you for your assistance.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the human undoubtedly rolled its eyes and began to stroll out the room, leaving the father and his two sons alone again.

“dad?”

“Yes?”

“just... just wan' protect pap.... papyrus...”

“I know, I do too.”

“i... protect him... love very much... you know?”

“Yes.”

“and... love you too...”

“Thank you." He blew out a sigh, “Likewise.”

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

_“You almost got caught, what the hell were you thinking?”_

_“I’ve been working there for ages, this isn’t anything new!”_

_“What part of take it slow did you not understand? The guy nearly lasered you with his skull thingy!”_

_“Why do you think that is, Cylo?! Dude, we need to be real about this!”_

_“Man, Rubin, if you get killed, I’m not taking the blame.”_

_“You know what they’re like. If I’m too slow they’ll suspect me. Especially the big guy. The kids have no idea what they’re doing.”_

_“So get in a room with them and do the job. Don’t piss off the guy with the big laser!”_

_“Kinda hard when he won’t leave their side! I’m trying to get him to trust me!”_

_“Fat lot of good that’s doing.”_

_“Look, okay, there’s no way in hell I can kill off the head honcho when he’s always around his kids. So we kill them off first, then when he’s down n’ grieving, we finish the job!”_

_“Damn, that’s cold. And this is me talking.”_

_“Do you want the job done or not?”_

_“Fine. Look, I think I know something about the youngest kid…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus struggles to sleep when his brother's life is threatened, ensuring that no-one else in the house is able to sleep along with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it gets a little angsty again, Sans swears once or twice and Rubin is pretty aggressive towards baby Papyrus, so be warned. Enjoy!! :D

_“Look, okay, there’s no way in hell I can kill off the head honcho when he’s always around his kids. So we kill them off first, then when he’s down n’ grieving, we finish the job!”_

_“Damn, that’s cold. And this is me talking.”_

_“Do you want the job done or not?”_

_“Fine. Look, I think I know something about the youngest kid…”_

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

“Look! Blocks so tall you can’t see me!” Papyrus grinned from behind the giant tower of building blocks, the helpful human behind the other side glowing with pride.

“Wow, Papyrus, you really are good at this,” the human plopped another block on top making the whole tower fall down. “Oh no.”

Papyrus’ little face fell in disappointment, but almost immediately perked up again, “It ok! I make another one!” he picked up a blue and red brick in both hands and started from scratch.

The human just watched him play in silence, observing his every move and every brick placed, somehow the silly game thrilling the little skeleton to the depths of his being.

Eventually the human must have became bored with the repetitive motion as he spoke up, “I’m gonna grab something to eat, you want anything?”

“Pwease cookie!” Papyrus flapped his arms, “Two cookie?”

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do.” The creature stood up from his cross-legged position and strode towards the door, narrowly avoiding the tiny skeleton from picking up the words: _Y_ _ou little shit._

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

“What are you doing?”

Rubin spun around. His boss was there.

_Shit._

Well, his _other_ boss. The overpowered, disgraced, vermin... boss.

“Getting Papyrus a snack,” he lifted a hand, presenting a chocolate bar in another, “And for myself.”

Gaster tilted his head and cocked a brow, “And you could not simply ask me because...?”

“Dude,” the human growled, clutching the chocolate bar with one hand and a newly found cookie in the other, “Sorry you've had that run in with that _one_ guy but that’s no reason to be an ass to all of us.”

Probably the most ironic lie he's ever told, but who's counting?

The scientist glared through him with well hidden fury, “I apologise that the looming threat of death for my children has caused some suspicion.”

“Touché,” best not to get killed first, though. “He's getting good at puzzles, you noticed?”

“Ah, yes.” Gaster relaxed slightly at the change of subject, “He does quite enjoy puzzles.”

Perhaps it was a good idea to play the part, “Ever thought about getting him some more difficult toys?”

A crudely insulting stare hidden beneath scarred black sockets made Rubin squirm. Maybe Cylo was right, and he was doing too much too soon.

“My child is my business,” the man finally stated, adjusting the glasses on the rim of his nose with an irritated scowl, “If he needs more challenging playthings as he grows older then I will provide him as such. Please stay out the way of my personal affairs.”

_How does this man have any friends?_

Firmly grasping the foodstuffs in his hands, Rubin scoffed and shouldered past the rude father, storming back towards Papyrus’ room, unbeknownst to the cold eyes that followed him from behind.

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

When Rubin entered Papyrus’ bedroom with the cookies, the little skeleton flapped his arms excitedly, leaving a trail of blocks on the floor and running up to the bearer of goods.

“Cookie!!” he practically nabbed it from the human’s hands, gulfing it down as if he hadn’t touched food for six weeks.

“Yeah, you eat that.” Rubin snorted with a smug sneer, “You eat that.”

“Nummy!” Papyrus clapped his hands, waving around excitedly before crawling back over to his pile of blocks. He stared at the mess blankly, chewing idly on his thumb.

Rubin’s grin grew wider.

Papyrus blinked. Then blinked again. “Ummm…”

“Don’t wanna play with blocks anymore?” Rubin asked sweetly, kneeling beside young toddler and watching as the excitement on his face melted into a frown.

“Yeah, don’t wanna play with blocks anymore,” Papyrus pouted. Both of his hands were preoccupied now, one rubbing his eyes and the other holding his stomach, “I wan’ daddy.”

Fidgeting with anticipation, Rubin raised a brow, “You want your daddy?”

Papyrus snivelled, his simple reply long and drawn out, “Yeah…”

“Why?”

“Jus… just wan’ daddy… tummy hurts…”

Wow, that was quick.

“Already? Didn’t you only eat that cookie five seconds ago?”

“Oh…” he shrugged, sucking his thumb again whilst staring into thin air for a moment as if he forgot he was talking. And then the life returned to his eyes again, “Yeah! I turn cookie into magic!”

“Huh,” Must be another weird monster thing. That would explain why the older brother passed out so quickly. Still... “Wouldn’t it be better if you didn’t tell him?”

Pouting, Papyrus craned his head to the side, “Why?”

Rubin tried to stop himself from smirking, “Because your dad will be very angry with you if you bother him with something as stupid as a stomach ache.”

The mean words uttered to him made Papyrus’ shoulders slump with shame, loosely picking up a block as if to start playing again but limply dropped it after. Then he looked towards his bed, unhappy about how far away it was.

“You wanna go to bed?”

He perked up slightly, albeit with less vigour than before, “Yeah!” Perhaps the human could read his mind. That was why he knew he loved cookies, right? Maybe humans have superpowers too!

Papyrus was promptly lifted into the air, carried with an arm tightly wrapped around his waist, eliciting a squeak.

When he was placed onto his racing car bed, the tiny tot tried to annoy the human babysitter again. “Still wanna tell daddy...”

This kid was going to be a problem. _And_ his shift was over.

“Listen, pipsqueak,” Rubin dropped to his bedside, trailing a hand over the child's skull and smirking, “If you tell your _daddy_ anything about this, I will snap off your brother’s fingers, one by one.” His grin broadened at the horror plastered over the toddler's face. “I will break his spine, and I'll make you watch.” Papyrus’ eyes swelled into massive white ovals. “So, what will it be? Do you still want to tell daddy?”

Unsurprisingly, fresh tears welled in the child's eyes, spilling down his cheeks at the sudden horrible threat. “Dun hurt Sas... pwease...” he made an odd noise somewhere between a hiccup and a sob, “I no tell daddy...pwease...”

“Heh,” Rubin patted the toddler’s head, “Good boy.”

He revelled at the sight of the distraught crying child, before heading towards the door. “Night night.”

The door was slammed shut.

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

Papyrus wasn’t sure if he were crying because he was afraid, crying because his tummy hurt or crying because he couldn't sleep.

Regardless, he was distressed and continued to do so until the early hours of the morning. He tried to weep quietly, muffling the cries into his pillow and hidden so far under his blanket he couldn’t see the light of his lamp anymore.

Everything was weighing down on him. The events of what had happened to his family, the _threats_ to his family from a trusted friend, the perilous danger they were all in… and his tummy _really_ hurt.

He snivelled. Maybe he’ll never come out of his room again. Maybe he’ll live under these blankets for the rest of his life and talk to no-one and never eat cookies ever again.

It was a thought that he built on for hours, moping in the dark until eventually he just came to the conclusion that he would never stop crying into his pillow.

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

Being abruptly woken from a particularly vivid dream about computers by the sound of wailing wasn’t exactly how he planned to spend the night, yet here he was.

For a moment, Gaster’s extremely dazed, sleepy mind assumed this was Papyrus’ normal nightly wailing, probably because he required attention. Then he came to the slow realisation that this stopped over two years ago. And _then_ the memories of the past few days came flooding back.

Jolting upright and pitching towards the wall on autopilot, Gaster threw open his door, needing only take two large strides to get to Papyrus’ room. Shouldering his way through the entrance, he was relieved to find that at the very least, there was no-one else but him and the shuddering blanket in the room.

“Papyrus?” he took a few steps towards the bed, gently pulling back the blanket when the sobbing heap of fluff didn’t reply. A small trembling skeleton was revealed under it, curled in a ball and weeping to himself.

“Hey, Papyrus, what’s the matter?”

He waited a moment, for the young toddler to process his words and form a reply, but none came. With a heavy sigh, Gaster reached for his son and grasped him around the waist, surprisingly eliciting a high-pitched squeal from the movement, most likely from the surprise of his father’s presence.

“What’s the matter?” he asked again, pulling the child to his shoulder and grimacing at the shrieking that didn’t seem to end. Eventually he settled for just rocking him, hoping the motion would calm him down. So he sat like that, shushing and rocking the three-year-old, awaiting for sleep to come over him so that they could both catch the last few hours of rest.

When half an hour passed without effect, he found himself stuck on a chair in the corner of the room, shushing the ever-crying child to no avail.

And then two hours passed.

Gaster had his fair share of sleepless nights when Papyrus was brought into the world, but this was ridiculous.

This was going on for far longer than what was normal for him, even during the first few months of his birth.

Alas, all he could do was continue to shush and rock him, a hand glued to the back of his small head, hoping Papyrus would eventually tire himself out and fall asleep.

Another hour passed. It had fallen silent for a grand total of seven minutes before the crying started up again. In the end, as a final resort, two tired eyes glowed a healing pale green, surrounding the shrieking child with the effect and hoping it would do _something._

However, two hours and half a magic supply later, it didn’t _stop._ If only skeletons had vocal chords, they surely would have burnt out by now.

“Papyrus, _please,”_ he groused, a pounding headache from the constant noise and drained magic supply as he rocked him again, rubbing his hand in and up and down motion against his back, “What on earth is the matter?”

Papyrus only jammed his head into the collar of Gaster’s sweatshirt and cried more.

The father exhaled bitterly, throwing his head back against the chair and begging for morning to come so one of his employees could deal with the racket.

Or maybe he was just being unnecessarily harsh and should be looking into the reason for his endless charade of screeching himself.

As if his internal pleas had been answered by some unnamed deity, the bedroom door slowly creaked open, the father couldn’t help but tighten his grasp on Papyrus, _just in case._

But it was his older son, Sans, that walked in, looking about as dead-eyed and fed up as he did. Among the endless crying, Gaster offered him a sardonic smile. “Hello Sans. Did you have a good sleep?”

Sans snorted, slumping down on the floor beside the father’s chair. “yeah. great.” The two sat in silence for a moment—well, communicative silence. The _wailing_ didn’t stop.

“He won’t settle,” Gaster mumbled, running a hand across the child’s forehead for the twelfth time that night, “There is no fever, no illness that I can see. I’m not sure what’s wrong.”

“he won’t speak?”

“No,” the fatigued father sighed, “I’ve tried standard, sign language and our native language. He does not do anything but cry.”

He heard Sans audibly huff, before appearing in front of him. “here, give him to me.”

Well, they had certainly exhausted every other possible option, there was no reason not to try switching hands.

Passing the tiny skeleton over to his eldest son, there was a sense of unfathomable relief in the aching arms that had been holding him for the majority of the night.

Sans shushed him, rocking him slightly as if Papyrus were a new-born again. He may as well have been.

As imagined, nothing that he did helped the poor skeleton from the sobbing, wailing and choking noises he made, so in the end Sans gestured his head towards Gaster with a nod.

“you should probably stop doing that now before you pass out first.”

He blinked. “What?”

Oh, the healing magic.

“Ah.” The green dimmed from his eyes, and instantly he felt immeasurably better. No wonder he was so tired, both physically, magically and mentally. “Thank you. I had become accustomed to it.”

Sans snorted, still rocking the toddler, “yeah, i can tell.”

If anything, the wailing had become louder. Both Sans and Gaster winced.

“shh, shh, pap. whats the matter, bro?” he whispered, wriggling a finger into his brother’s hand and attempting to grasp it, but the gesture proved difficult when holding him so tightly. Papyrus seemed to make a weak attempt to wrap a finger around his, but ultimately gave up and started crying again. “shh. its okay. promise. whats gotten into you, huh?”

“Suffice to say the assessments planned for him on Thursday are now rescheduled for tomorrow. Or today.”

Sans nodded, not taking his eyes away from his brother. It was Monday now, or rather Tuesday given it was now 5am and the lab staff will be coming in soon, namely the ones that know how to babysit Papyrus. “do you think someone hurt him?” his voice was small, afraid of the answer.

“Perhaps,” Gaster exhaled, dropping his head into his hands, shutting his eyes against the pounding headache, “But let us not jump to conclusions. If it were serious then something would have happened already, more than simply just crying.”

“yeah but, crying all night though?” Sans broke off eye contact with Papyrus to look at his father, “it’s not like him. hes always so well behaved,” his voice cracked, “if someone hurt him i swear to god…”

“Like I said, let’s not jump to conclusions,” Gaster tried to thumb the headache away, “If this continues for another hour I will take him down to the lab and look at him myself. If it does not, well… I should have time after work.”

Sans nodded mutely, sighing softly when the crying started to become fainter. “damn, it’s like he understood you,” he snorted, ensuring to keep the swaying up, “i think he’s calming down now.”

Gaster lifted his head from his hands and looked to see for himself. “Indeed.” He was certainly more relaxed in the face now. “Perhaps he just wanted you.”

“aww,” Sans cooed, booping his tiny brother on the nose, “did ya just want me, bro? didja want your big bro sansy?”

Heaving a relieved sigh, Gaster once more rubbed his face into his hands, internally wondering how he was going to survive working the day. He was quite frankly absolutely drained.

On the other hand, Sans was on the lower end of the energy spectrum and was much younger than him. Yet he too had been kept awake all night by Papyrus.

Gaster shut his eyes. “Stay home from school today, Sans.”

He could practically feel the young skeleton staring at him with awestruck eyes.

“really?”

“Yes. I believe it will not do either of you any good if you’re away from home today. Perhaps you should keep Papyrus company for the time being.”

“oh. sure. maybe i can figure out why he cried all night.” It was quite a lovely sight to behold, there was such love in the young skeleton's eyes as he rocked his baby brother.

“That sounds ideal,” Gaster exhaled, forcing himself to get to his feet, “Alright, I must set up the CORE for today. Alphys is staying in the lab with you today, along with everyone else.”

Sans craned his head to the side, “so it’s only you in the core?”

“No, the usual staff are present, although today is supposed to be my first day back since the incident. Alphys was supposed to return too, but, I would like her to stay here with you and Papyrus. I trust her the most out of all my staff, and right now trust is what I need.”

“oh, right,” Sans nodded slowly, glancing towards the red racing car bed, “i’ll try to tuck in pap i guess.”

Gaster headed back towards his room to find his lab coat, leaving Sans to deal with his brother. “Get some sleep, if you can,” he called, shrugging on the white coat, and even that seemed to drain the last of his energy. “I should be back home by nine if all goes to plan. In which case I’ll take a look at your brother.”

“kay,” Sans was suddenly next to him now, apparently having quickly managed to get Papyrus to sleep in his own bed without waking him up. What a miracle child.

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

Sans expected his little brother to be excited to have the chance to play games with him again. But when being offered _any_ of his toys, Papyrus just stared right through them as if he’d never seen them before in his life.

“papy…” Sans was exasperated, sighing as he hugged his idly staring brother. “whats going on lil bro? why you feeling so sad?”

His brother offered nothing more than a shrug, leaning into Sans’ hoodie.

“jeez…” he shut his eyes, completely at a loss for what to do now. His bro was acting all weird and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Sas?”

_oh thank god, a response._

“yeah, pap?”

“If…” Papyrus began but paused, licked his lips and shook his head.

“what is it? you can tell me anything.”

He heard him snivel, probably holding back another nine-hour crying session, before he finally spoke, “Will… daddy be real mad at me if I said why I’m sad?”

Sans frowned, “no? pap, daddy cares about you very much and wants to fix whatever is making you sad.”

“Oh.” Papyrus seemed genuinely surprised.

“who told you that?”

“Um,” he squirmed, “Doesn’t matter…”

“no, pap,” Sans clasped his brothers face with his hands and forced him to face him, “who. told. you. that.”

Apparently that wasn’t the right way to handle the situation as his little face suddenly bawled into tears again.

“ah man…”

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

The rest of the day was extremely uneventful, although considering Papyrus didn’t even want to play blocks with Sans, he wasn’t exactly surprised when all his little brother did was hug him. And that was it. That was the entire day.

He could at least _sleep,_ he was three years old and had been awake for what was probably the entire night, but nope, he didn’t want to do that either. He was just extremely clingy to his older brother and refused to do anything else.

Eventually though, the front door of the house slammed in the distance, heralding the arrival of their father.

“hey, pap,” Sans whispered to Papyrus, who was still nestled and half-asleep in his lap, “dad’s home now.”

_maybe we can finally get some answers._

He felt Papyrus nod against his leg, his fingers curling around his sleeve and tugging lightly.

“Sas…”

Sans glanced down at him, “yeah?”

“Dun… dun tell daddy about that stuff I said earlier, ok?”

Sans frowned, but nodded. Anything that would get him to trust him enough to open up some more. “sure thing.”

The two brothers sat on the floor, Papyrus still nestled up in his lap and clearly trying to sleep but being unable to. Sans had his arms around him, hoping the comfort would at least lull him off to sleep, but it didn’t.

After some time had passed, footsteps broke the silent living room, their father appearing by the doorway looking much worse than he did in the morning. He glanced at Sans, tilting his head as a silent question from afar about whether there had been any progress. Sans shook his head.

Gaster pursed his mouth, but ultimately nodded towards Papyrus and then side-glanced down the hall. This time, Sans nodded, nudging Papyrus to wake him from his half-sleeping state.

Papyrus gazed up at him, then followed where his brother’s own eyes were looking – to their father. The little skeleton tightened his grasp on Sans’ hoodie and frowned.

Softly sighing and still standing in the doorway, Gaster gestured a _come here_ motion with his index finger, to which Papyrus sniffled, rubbed his eyes and began to stand.

Sans walked with him – as if he had a choice – picking up Papyrus’ discarded blanket that he _knew_ his bro would need in the very immediate future.

“Where we going?” Papyrus questioned, waddling down the hall with them, his dad's index finger tightly in hand.

“down to dad’s lab, pap,” Sans offered to him gently, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder when his brother’s expression visibly hardened, “he just wants to check some stuff out.”

“Oh,” Papyrus pouted, wringing his hands together as they reached the elevator, “All the people be there?”

“Yes, I need them to help me work,” their father explained, pressing the button to close the elevator doors. Papyrus’ breathing seemed to quicken, so he added, “It will be alright. Sans will be with you the whole time, and you can have your blanket.”

“B-B-But,” the little brother stuttered, pacing backwards and hitting the wall of the elevator, “But I don’t wanna!”

Something really seemed to be troubling him.

“it’s ok, pap,” Sans knelt in front of him, taking his hands, “do you remember a few days ago when me and daddy got really ill?”

Papyrus nodded meekly.

“well,” Sans explained, “now we have to make sure that you won’t get really ill too. we want you all safe and happy, yeah?”

Again, he nodded, “Yeah…”

When Sans stood back up, Papyrus made a noise that came somewhere between and whine and a sob. Gaster shouldered past Sans and knelt in front of Papyrus.

“Hey, Papyrus. It will be alright, I promise.”

His little mouth wobbled. “N…No I…”

Gaster took his hand, “If there is something you want to tell me, now is the time to say it.”

Papyrus shuddered, glancing up at his big brother, who simply raised a brow. But ultimately, he shook his head. Gaster tried very hard not to sigh.

“Alright. Well, come with me.”

The elevator doors pinged open, and Papyrus was exposed to his father’s lab for the first time in his life.

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

There was white clad padding everywhere. A very strong smell wafted through the elevator doors as soon as they opened, which above all else made Papyrus feel even more uncomfortable.

He was shook out of his stupor when his hand was grasped by his father, leading him into the wide space and straight through to another room.

This one had all the people in it, seemingly preoccupied until a grey cat looking creature caught a glimpse of them.

“Dr Gaster!”

Everyone else glanced up from their stations.

“I presume this is the adorable baby skele you were talking about!” the cat cooed at him, to which Papyrus couldn’t help but beam at in response.

“Yes, good evening. Apologies for coming down so late.”

The cat seemed nice enough, anyway. “Nonsense! We all have very busy work schedules lately.”

Papyrus stared blankly around the room in both amazement and terror. Was this what his father made all by himself? No wonder everyone thought he was cool.

Speaking of which, his father tapped him on the shoulder, bringing Papyrus to gaze up at him.

“Sit down, Papyrus. I will get to you shortly, Sans will stay with you.”

He glanced back down, his curious yet apprehensive eyes falling upon a colour matching exam table. But it was all soft and squishy, so maybe not a table. Maybe it was a giant squishy deck chair.

“Sit down.” His father repeated from the back of the room.

Papyrus swallowed hard, but nodded, climbing onto the squishy-table-sofa-chair and making a very vain attempt at relaxing into it.

Just like his father promised, Sans was there with his blanket.

He grinned, covering Papyrus from head to toe with the soft cosy blanket.

“Sas...” Papyrus whispered as he squished his fingers into the cotton, feeling bad when his question made Sans’ grin drop, “What is happen?”

“uhh, well...” Sans averted his gaze, pondering on how to explain this to his scared little brother for a moment before taking his hand. “they're just gonna find out if you don't like the same things i don’t like. cos then we can protect you from the bad guys.”

“Oh,” Papyrus tensed, squealing when the sofatablechair suddenly went from upright to cranked down flat. Now he was really exposed and staring at all the bright lights. He didn't like it very much.

“I want him under Meriloxone,” he heard his dad say, of whom suddenly came wheeling up behind him. That was funny, daddy was upside down!

“But sir, that’s an inhalant.” That voice sounded familiar... “It will be much easier and faster for us if we just gave him something intravenously.”

“I’m aware of that. And I'm telling you to use Meriloxone. Or are you incapable?”

“ _No_...” the voice hissed, the sound of clattering and rummaging resounding around him. Where has he heard that voice before?

“Excellent. I also need readings from his soul, beta waves, magic output, and bone density readings, particularly around his ribs.”

Oh no. Did he somehow find out his tummy was hurting earlier?

His hand was squeezed, bringing him back down to reality and Sans' desperately-trying-to-be-comforting face. Papyrus smiled back, grasping his older brother’s finger slightly tighter than he was his blanket.

“hey pap, after this you can have as many cookies as you can eat, ok?” his brother offered him with a devilish grin, Papyrus blinking owlishly at the thought of eating twenty-nine chocolate cookies in one sitting.

His attention was soon brought back to his father, whose chair had rolled back in his line of sight, looking more focused than Papyrus had ever seen him in his entire life.

This was the first time he had actually seen him _work,_ however, but still.

“Sir, what is the base amount of Dexaferal Isonixide that should be present in a skeleton?”

Papyrus saw his focused father above him frown, adjusting his glasses and reading from a screen, “It should not be present at all.”

“Oh, because, uh,” there was a pause, probably double checking, “There’s traces of it in his system.”

“I see.” Numerous emotions flickered through his father’s steel cold eyes, no doubt trying to suppress a temper that threatened to emerge and was only successful due to being in the immediate vicinity of his toddler.

Papyrus watched him take a breath, scanning around the room for something, or _someone,_ before furious eyes glanced down at him.

“When was the last time you ate?”

With the words of the mean human hovering around his head for the past day, Papyrus was speechless to respond for a moment. As if summoned by a cruel force of nature, the same face he had been dreading to see again towered over him also, now faced with both his father and the perpetrator staring down at him for an answer.

“No…?” he whispered, vaguely aware that the answer didn’t make a lick of sense in response to the question.

“No?” Somehow, his father’s frown managed to deepen even further, “You haven’t eaten at all recently?”

“I… I have…” he couldn’t stop staring at the human, the threats still zooming around his head from the night before. He wasn’t allowed to tell anyone, or Sans would get really hurt. “I eated… I did…”

“What did you eat?”

The human quirked a brow at him, silently indicating to him an expression reading _don’t you dare._

“Um…” he rasped, blinking quickly with panic, “I-I forgot…”

A small smirk quirked upon the human’s face; he sat back out of sight, a huge relief to the small skeleton and probably the human too. His father on the other hand wouldn’t stop scowling, a question that was left unanswered burning at his conscience.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he eventually concluded, then gestured towards his staff, “Where is the Meriloxone?”

An estranged arm appeared over him, a transparent white plastic thing in the accompanying hand, “Here.”

It was easy to identify his father’s own hand taking the object from the disembodied hand, moving the tubing out the way before, gazing down at Papyrus.

His stomach flipped.

“hey, pap,” Sans distracted him before his mind could even think about going down that route, “we got a puzzle for ya.”

Papyrus curled his fingers into his blanket anxiously but was interested nonetheless, “Puzzle?” Gaster was glowering at Sans too, finding his abrupt desire to start a _game_ very perplexing.

“yep, you see where this tube thing goes?” Papyrus followed the long tubing across the room, trailing across the floor, and up to a big complicated machine. “well, the cool thing is, when you breathe into it, the little thing here on the side,” he pointed at the numbers, “they go up. do you think you can hit one-hundred?”

“Wun... hun... red?” he blinked at the difficult number that was currently at zero, then gazed back at his dad, who was still hesitantly hovering the plastic thing in the air.

“yeah, it’s really hard, only cool people can do it, and i know you’re cool,” Sans grinned, “you’ll beat my record of seventy. wanna try?”

Papyrus nodded, despite his stomach doing flips and swallowing excessively. It was as if his subconscious knew his big brother was lying about something, if dad’s expression was anything to go by. But he wanted to try the puzzle and impress his brother.

“cool, ok,” Sans forced a smile and nodded towards his dad, who narrowed his eyes slightly before staring down Papyrus. After a moment of deliberation, he wordlessly moved the cushioned plastic thing over Papyrus’ face, grimacing at the annoying hissing noise the mask was making. Not to mention it was starting to _smell._

Papyrus swallowed hard once more, his face wrinkling at the sour smell coming through the device. Shortly thereafter, though, his brother tried to distract him again.

“hey, look, the numbers here, see?” Sans reminded him of the challenge, the numbers that were before at zero now currently at eleven. “you’re doing it already.”

“How I make numbers go up?” he whispered, unable to stop himself from gazing up at his father for reassurance, of which the man chose not to provide. There was _something_ in his eyes, but Papyrus couldn’t identity it.

“well, the more you breathe the higher the number goes.”

Giving it a practice run, Papyrus took in a deep breath, nearly spluttering as a result when his eyes watered from the vapor, although the numbers were still climbing. “see?”

“Turn the mode down to three.” his father ambiguously ordered to his staff. There was a few beats of silence and a weird clinking sound, but the reply came from the nice cat person.

“Mode is down to three, Dr Gaster.”

Moments later and Papyrus felt insanely better. It wasn’t so hard to breathe anymore. And even better, the numbers were still going up! Maybe he can beat Sans’ record after all!

He blinked, attempting to read the numbers from a distance but the red digits were getting blurry, growing double vision and glowing. Several more blinks later and he felt too tired to even think about numbers. Papyrus had no idea how far he managed to roll the numbers up, but he hoped that he managed to beat Sans’ high score and do them proud.

Eventually though, the thought of that didn’t matter, sounds and sights blurring together and echoing around the room. He could vaguely feel his limbs turning to lead, the hand he used to hold the mask over his face becoming very loose and wobbly.

His father was kind enough to help him though, as he could instinctively tell that the hand that grabbed his skull belonged to him, grasping his jaw and tilting it upright as he held the mask firmly to his face.

“I…” he breathed, finding even that extremely tiring, “Dun… dun wanna… pl…pl… game… an…more…”

It felt like a decade until his mind processed the response from who he identified was his father. “It’s alright.”

“I…I…I… dun…”

“You can take the sample from his bone marrow now.”

“is he ok?”

“Yes. Thank you for calming him, Sans.”

A voice sounded from somewhere in the room, of which made his stomach twist and turn. “Why couldn’t you just put him entirely to sleep? He’s still awake!”

Who did that voice belong to?

“The whole point of conscious sedation is exactly that. Consciousness.”

“What’s the point? You could just make him sleep so he doesn’t have to go through all this!”

“Go through what exactly? I merely gave him a potent sedative to ensure he remains calm while retaining some form of lucidity so that I can still get answers from him.”

“But he should be asleep!”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of my personal affairs?”

“This isn’t personal, this is work!”

_Wait a minute…_

“He has to be cognizant. Stop questioning my decisions.”

“If you wanted him conscious then you should’ve given him a light tranquiliser, not something that sends him to the brink of a coma!”

“Why are you so insistent that he goes to sleep?”

“D…” it was extremely difficult for his mouth to form words. “Daddy?”

The voice that had been arguing was suddenly much closer. “Yes?”

“Daddy…”

“Dude, look, he’s suffering! Put him to sleep!”

“He is not suffering, he is trying to talk.”

“He’s suffering! This is horrendous behaviour!” Papyrus knew that voice…

“Daddy… daddy… wanna… go…”

“Why do you want to go, Papyrus?”

“Look at him!”

“ ** _Be quiet!”_**

“Dun…” he breathed, taking a deep breath, “I dun…” Papyrus opened his eyes, seeing the blurry figure of his father, and…

Slowly, his brain connected the dots.

Oh.

_Oh._

It was the human. The human that threatened to hurt Sans if daddy ever found out that he hurt him.

His eyes pinpoint, Papyrus suddenly found an unholy amount of energy to start thrashing, frantically trying to get away from the mean human, who was now mirroring his panicked expression.

“Hey, hey. Papyrus. Calm down.”

“Should I turn it up to four?”

“No, keep it as it is,” his chin was clutched, “Papyrus, look at me. Stop panicking. Breathe. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He was in danger. Sans was in danger. Daddy was in danger.

Papyrus flailed, ramming his head from side to side to get the stupid mask off his face, with little to no avail as the hands tightly glued to his skull were much stronger than him.

“what the hell is happening.” The blanket slipped off Papyrus' flailing body and onto the floor.

“NO!”

“Papyrus—”

"Soul pressure is 170 over 100-"

“NO!” he screamed, throwing his hands onto his father’s wrists and clawing at them to let go of the mask, _“NO!”_

“dad, what the fuck—”

“Papyrus, look at me, look at my eyes, what colour are they?”

The futile distraction was no use when Papyrus slammed his head back down on the table with frustration, his fight or flight instincts taking full control over his body.

“I told you that you should’ve put him to sleep!”

“Turn the Meriloxone off, just get me a syringe-“

“—Finally!”

“No!” Papyrus kicked and screamed like, _well_ , a three-year-old having a tantrum. “NO!”

He could see Rubin’s face floating above him right next to his dad’s, making aggressive facial expressions towards him—blurry, but there—and he was definitely the one trying to get daddy to make him go to sleep.

  
Which meant Rubin probably was going to do something bad, and wanted to make sure Papyrus wasn’t awake to tell anyone.

" _Daddy!"_ Little Papyrus screamed through watery eyes, struggling to get his distracted father to listen.

“is it a panic attack? is it like me? has he got it too?”

“No, I don’t think so. This is very unlike him.”

"Daddy p-p-pwease!"

"Alright."

Papyrus spluttered and coughed out in relief when the mask was released from his face, finally breathing the fresh air of the room again. That relief was very short lived however when his owlish eyes spotted the aforementioned pointy object in his father’s hands, alongside the smirking face of Rubin next to him.

“No-NO! Stop!” he shouted, struggling to free himself from the multitude of hands that had him pinned down.

One hand cupped his chin, “Papyrus, you need to calm down—”

“NO!”

“Tell me what’s wrong—”

“ _NO!”_

He wasn’t _allowed_ to tell anyone, or Rubin would hurt Sans!

“Dude, just give him the drug—”

_So what was he supposed to do?!_

“dad, please for the love of stars just put him out his misery.”

Papyrus panted, attempting to thrust his arm away again, just in case by _chance_ they happened to be free that precise moment, but to no avail.

He found his father grounding his jaw, before taking his arm in a bid to jab him with the pointy thing.

“NO! STOP!” Papyrus screamed, then instinctively turned to his father’s native language, “ _STOP! PLEASE! NO!”_ his eyes were wild and frightened, “ _STOP! SCARED!”_

Through the shouting of everyone else but his father in the room--all of whom were begging the scientist to just jab the little skeleton and get it over with--Gaster surveyed his son and considered him for a moment after his last scream in verbal Wingdings, raising a brow, then replied to him in the same language.

“ _Listen carefully.”_ The pointy object was inches away from his arm, his father’s thumb primed and ready, “ _Is someone in this room hurting you?”_

Papyrus gasped. How did he know?!

“ _Do not react. If someone in this room has been hurting you, blink three times.”_

Papyrus blinked three times.

He wasn’t sure what it was that was burning so much in his father’s eyes, either fury or understanding, but the man finally retracted the syringe, clattering it on a tray much to the dismay of everyone else in the room. Papyrus blew out a long breath in relief. _Safe._

“papyrus…” Oh, right, Sans could understand Wingdings too.

“Man, what is wrong with you? You waiting for him to die or what?”

“Do you want me to do it?”

Gaster cleared his throat. “Other than my immediate family, every one of you must leave the room this instant.”

The commotion abruptly stopped, the room falling into stunned silence. But then, Gaster raised his voice.

“ ** _Now._** ”

Fearing the ever-growing temper, everyone scrambled to get out their chairs and left the room in a hurry.

Finally coming down from that fear-fuelled adrenaline rush, Papyrus rolled onto his side and grasped Sans’ hand.

Sans leaned forward and hugged him, sighing softly as the weight of the situation slowly fell upon him.

“s’ok bro. ain’t nobody gonna touch you now.”

Papyrus was still shivering when his father draped the missing blanket over him; he snuggled down underneath it, curling himself into the warmth and comfort that he so desperately needed.

“There you go. Is that better?”

Papyrus nodded.

“Excellent,” Gaster seated himself beside Sans, of whom was thumbing circles into the back of Papyrus' hand. Both father and son watched the toddler, exasperated but thoughtful.

A sliver of emotion showed through his father's cool eyes. "If you were uncomfortable around my employees, you should have voiced as such."

"I did!" Papyrus cried, flapping his arms and sending his poor blanket flying again, "I say no, and no and no, but daddy still did it!"

"Papyrus..." Gaster leaned into his hands and sighed softly, "It is rather difficult to understand what you want when you communicate your problems by either crying or screaming."

Sans snorted, "c'mon, man, he's a babybones. screaming and crying is what they do," he tickled Papyrus under the chin, "don'cha?" 

Papyrus giggled despite himself, reaching out to his big brother for a hug; Sans gave him the biggest bear hug that a big brother could give without squeezing the poor toddler to death.

Their father chuckled, drawing out another long sigh, "I suppose so..." He adjusted his reading glasses, creating eye contact with the toddler and shifting the conversation back into one that of a serious nature. 

“Now, can you tell me which one of those people hurt you?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The humans are still after Sans, and he's withholding something from his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Havent updated in a while so uh... Merry Christmas!! Hahaha

_“s’ok bro. ain’t nobody gonna touch you now.”_

_Papyrus was still shivering when his father draped the missing blanket over him._

_“There you go. Is that better?”_

_Papyrus nodded._

_“Excellent,” Gaster seated himself beside Sans, both father and son watching Papyrus, exasperated but thoughtful. “Now, can you tell me which one of those people hurt you?”_

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

Papyrus sat on his knees chewing on his thumb and waiting for daddy to stop being busy.

Sans was allowed to go to school today, and Alphys was back working in the CORE. But because of these new findings, Gaster refused to leave the house with Papyrus on his own.

Granted, he could possibly tell Alphys to stay home from work and babysit him, but given even the fact that Rubin had managed to slip under the radar for so long, he had trouble trusting absolutely anyone be allowed to be with the child except himself and Sans.

But Gaster was glued to his desk, writing note after note, paper after paper about the findings they had in the lab the day before—or at least what he could make of it before the session was cut short.

After thirty-seven minutes of doing absolutely nothing but sit on the floor and watch his father work, Papyrus finally got to his feet, waddling over apprehensively and approaching the cloaked figure.

He tilted his head. “Daddy?”

Gaster didn’t turn away from his work, “Hmm?”

“Hug now pwease?” Papyrus wringed his hands together and waited, hoping his father could part ways with his desk for five seconds to give him some comfort.

At first, Papyrus was crestfallen when the man simply sighed raggedly at his request, before his chair turned around to face him.

“Come here, then.”

The toddler’s arms flew up in the air, “Yay!”

He ran up to his father, practically jumping on his lap and nearly falling onto his desk.

“Careful,” Gaster murmured, grabbing him around the waist and sitting him down on his knee. “You can sit here if you don’t interfere with my work.”

Huge pale eyes glanced up at him dreamily, “Weeeally?!”

His father leaned forward to continue working, “As long as you sit still.”

Immediately after, Papyrus flapped his arms and jolted up and down, “Yay yay yay yay yay yay—”

A hand landed flat on his head, “On second thought—” he picked the over-zealous toddler up and placed him back on the ground. “Perhaps wait until you’ve calmed down.”

Papyrus’ bottom lip wobbled, “B-But… I want…” he snivelled. Gaster groused out a sigh-he knew what was coming. “I want hug _noooow!!”_ Papyrus screamed, stomping around the room wailing for attention.

When his tantrum went unnoticed by his father, who chose to continue working, Papyrus slumped down against the back of the office chair, whining to himself in displeasure.

He wiped his eyes, hitting his head against the wood and snivelling. Sometimes daddy could be really mean…

Papyrus chewed on his thumb again, glancing around the room for something he could capture his dad’s attention with. Throwing his blanket at him was always a possibility, but what if he made him angry? That couldn’t happen… he had to be good and make dad not angry.

Anyways, it had been five minutes, maybe daddy would give him a hug now?

Flapping his hands, Papyrus dragged himself to his feet and wobbled over to his dad.

“Da—” The phone rang.

With Gaster picking up the phone, Papyrus pouted and continued to his sulking charade.

“Gaster.”

Stupid phone. Stupid human. Stupid everything.

“ _What?”_ Gaster sent the office chair soaring backwards as he shot to his feet with alarm, Papyrus jumping out the way before the wheels could hit him.

“Do not alert authorities, I will be right there.”

_Oh, did they find the bad guys?_ Papyrus wondered as the phone was slammed down into it’s tray. He tilted his head and gawked the now suspended phone, wondering what it was that could cause such an unspeakable reaction.

Gaster whirled around and zeroed in on the tiny skeleton, chaotic steel eyes struggling to conceal the panic from his son. “Papyrus, I'm going to have to leave the house for a while. You're safest here, stay in your room and do not interact with anyone. Alright?”

Pursing his mouth, the little toddler nodded enthusiastically, wondering why his dad was being so secretive about his outside adventure mission.

Two eyes flashed a bright blue, before the man suddenly disappeared in a mist of magic, Papyrus gaping at the remnants with childish wonder.

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

“ _get the hell away from me!”_ A crowd of frightened terror-stricken children cowered in the corner of the classroom, somehow fearful of a small skeleton and his gigantic pet skull.

“Sans,” the teacher began—she too had been held up with the cluster of children a human among a mix of monsters and man. “They are afraid of you right now, not the other way around.”

“no, you stay away from me, and my bro, a-and my dad, or i-im gonna have to kill all of you.”

Their little shrieks were something of a horror that pierced both his ears and soul, but he had to protect his family.

“We're backed against a wall, Sans,” the teacher had her arms out defensively in front of the children, “Your dad is coming, you don’t want to upset him, do you?”

“get away. get back.”

“Can you tell me what's made you so angry? Did you get into a fight at recess?”

Sans roared at the loathsome human, “i said get _back!”_

The air darkened swiftly, the skeleton’s enormous pet skull charged up a bright ball of cyan blue and facing menacingly at the fretting, screaming children. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to unleash its power.

Such extensive use of untamed magic felt like small electric shocks across Sans’ face, sizzling at his eye sockets and eliciting small twitches in his cheeks and fingers.

So, he just idly remained there, his gaze fixed as he watched them all with unnerving thoroughness, an unspoken contest as to who would move first.

Then, whether for better or worse, familiar footsteps reverberated up the corridor behind the children, revealing none other than his father storming into the room and abruptly coming to a halt at the sight of the gigantic blaster his eight-year-old had somehow summoned; but Sans wasn’t about to let up nor endanger him by withdrawing his combat stance.

_What on earth…?_

They stared at each other, Gaster’s eyes analysing him rigorously as if trying to ascertain what was happening from sheer facial expressions alone.

When he found no immediate threat to himself or the children hostages, he spoke.

“Sans,” he spoke slowly, meticulously, “Explain to me what is happening.”

The teacher immediately interrupted before Sans could open his mouth, “I was just teaching class and he suddenly—”

“I want my son to speak, not you.”

The human recoiled back into silence.

Sans’ mouth twitched, breathing hard whilst he struggled to come up with a reasonable reply. “the kid has a gun.”

Gaster’s expression darkened. He turned to the teacher. “Is this true?”

“It’s just a toy gun,” the human female spoke, drawing attention to a child with an orange plastic gun, “I think it squirts water,” she explained, the other child hanging his head with shame.

“He hit your son with it, and he decided to threaten all of us with his…” she flailed her arms in the vague direction of his giant blaster, “Whatever the hell _that_ is!”

“i-it’s not a toy,” Sans defended himself, his arms remained hoisted in the air, “it’s a trick. i know it is. it’s a trick. i-it’s a damn trick.”

Gaster took in a silent long breath, attempting to hide his frustration from his son. “Sans, I’m going to come to you. Just me. Do you understand?”

The skeleton child analysed the room, ensuring the other children were not planning to jump him or his father, but fell upon the aforementioned ‘toy’ gun the boy was holding.

Just after his father took one step forward, Sans shouted out, “w-wait, no no no, don’t—” he breathed, shaking his head and pointing loosely at the gun with his other hand, “he’s still—he’s still got—he’ll kill you, don’t move.”

Gaster glowered, spinning around to find the child that was still holding the item that terrified his son. He found the child instantly, cowering slightly at the hard gaze staring fiercely at him, the toy grasped tightly in hand. “Drop it.”

“B-But it’s a toy!”

He bared his teeth, “I said _drop it.”_

The child no longer hesitated to comply. Once the item clattered to the floor, Gaster kicked it across the other side of the room, ensuring that no-one would be able to get to it.

Turning back to his son, Gaster tried again, “Is that sufficient?”

Sans blinked slowly, nodding faintly as his father took cautious steps towards him. As soon as he reached him, Sans stiffened when the other children began to filter out the corridor and away from him.

“what are they doing?” he stared at them leaving the room; they were no doubt coming together to form a plan to kill him. Sans jerked forward to run after them, caught quickly on the wrist by his father. “what are they doing?!”

“They are just going outside.”

Sans shot his head back to his father, panicked and climbing his wrists, “what if they’re working together now?”

“Working on what exactly?” Gaster tightly grasped his son’s shoulders, “They are only leaving the room because they want to be safe.”

“safe?” Sans huffed in despair, “safe from what? they don’t want to be safe. is papyrus safe?”

This was going to go downhill very fast.

“He is at home safe in his room, yes.”

Sans’ eyes widened, “you left him at home alone?!”

“He is safe.”

“oh my god,” the child spun around and made haste towards the door before his father caught him around the waist, “let me go! we need to get back to pap! they’re gonna hurt him!”

“Papyrus is safe. You are overexaggerating.”

“no! they’re gonna kill him that with that gun!”

The orange toy gun floated in an orb of blue. “This gun?”

Confusion seemed to pass across the skeleton child’s face, his mind struggling to process and piece the situation together rationally.

Aware of how quickly his son was going to spiral, Gaster summoned his magic in order to teleport to safety—but it refused. Having just used it seconds ago, it needed time to recharge.

With Sans’ mind at a stalemate, the skeleton dragged his fingers down his face and screamed hoarsely whilst stamping his feet, “ _no!_ it’s a _trick!”_ he sought to wrench himself away from his father’s grasp with great failure, “they’re gonna find pap! they’re gonna kill him! they’re gonna kill him!” he wept, ignoring his father’s vain attempt at soothing him by holding his forehead to his chest. “they’re gonna _kill us!”_

Gaster exhaled harshly, knowing what this ‘episode’ was. “They are children your own age, Sans. It’s alright. You have worked yourself up over this again.”

“ _i’m not!”_ Sans writhed, pulling and yanking over the hands on his arms that refused to let go, “they’re gonna…” he gasped, his blaster firing from behind and hitting the closed wooden door, leaving a scorched gaping hole in its wake. “oh god what the hell—"

The palm of a hand wrestled Sans’ forehead backwards and forced his skull against Gaster’s ribs. “Alright. Calm down…”

“they’re gonna kill papy…i have to do something…” his arms were shivering as the blaster began to power up again.

“…Sans—”

“oh my god, why is it doing that on its own!?”

“You need to calm down.”

Sans glared up at the floating skull that had a mind of its own, “i can’t, i cant do it, why is it doing that!?”

“Because it is reacting to your emotions and you are completely untrained in magic. Calm down and it will stop.”

“i don’t know how!” A huge explosion of blue careered through the air and burned into the same spot on the door, this time searing through the hole already there and into the wall behind it.

“what the hell?!” Sans shrieked, his mind begging him to run away from the blaster, but his father refused to let him go.

“It’s alright, it’s alright—control your emotions, it will stop.” Gaster once again called upon his teleportation magic, but it still wasn’t fully charged.

_Damn it._

Sans writhed in his arms, “don’t you _freaking_ get it?!” he screamed, wrenching himself away as if his blaster was the worst thing in existence, “it won’t stop! i can’t control it!”

As the sound of the blaster powering up again reached his father’s ears, the man demanded of his son, “Sans, don’t you dare set that off again. Control yourself.”

Trembling frantically, Sans suddenly cried out in pain, grasping his ribs and sobbing at his lack of control. “what's happening to me?!”

Apparently waiting for his son to figure it out on his own wasn’t an option anymore.

“Listen to me. Take a deep breath. Control your emotions.”

Muttering gibberish and shuddering, Sans ignored the request, his fingers securing a vice grip around his father’s wrist, but he ultimately said and did nothing. He could only watch as the blaster’s ball of blue grew bigger. Seconds later, heat ran up Sans’ face as magic discharged from the blaster and into the abused wall—then came a smashing sound. Clearly it had hit a window this time around.

When there was no startled reaction or any effort at communication from Sans, Gaster held his breath as he shook his mute son.

“ _Sans_.”

The blaster finally disappeared.

Either he had managed to calm down, or…

“Sans,” Gaster shook him again, suddenly frantic for a reply, “Hey, talk to me!”

“m’fine.”

_Oh, thank heavens._

“Are you alright?” Gaster asked, despite his previous statement.

Sans murmured nearly inaudibly, “yeah.”

Then his knees collapsed.

“ _Sh-"_

Instinctively, Gaster caught his falling son under the arms before he could hit the ground, the young skeleton sagging and no longer supporting his weight.

They remained on the floor, Gaster kneeling with his son’s head slumped against his chest, all while his legs splayed out in front of him.

Once more the man sought the attention of his magic to teleport home, and this time instead of being met with a tug of refusal, the world fell into darkness.

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

“i told you i’m _fine_.”

If there was one bonus to be had from all of this, at least he wasn’t allowed to go to school now. He was strictly on bed rest, which wasn’t the worse thing in the world. And besides, he gets to spend more time with pap!

“I will be the judge of that,” his overbearing father murmured, having not left his bedside since they teleported home. “You need to learn to control this magic, Sans. Or else you are not going to survive very long into adulthood."

“really?” Sans snorted, dismissing his unnecessarily eerie threat by rolling onto his side and facing the wall.

“Yes, _really_.” Gaster persisted, tugging at the sleepy skeleton's shoulders to reclaim his attention. “In fact, you shouldn’t even be manifesting this power until you’re at least twelve,” he jostled his shoulder again. “The fact you summoned a blaster the size of an elephant and almost killed yourself is concerning.”

“i kinda don't care,” Sans refused to remove himself from staring down the wall, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep, but unable to thanks to his dad's incessant blabbering on and on and _on_ about magic.

“You should.” Gaster urged, “We need to talk about this. But I can see you would rather be asleep than discussing actions to prevent your imminent death, so I will come back later.”

Sans grinned in spite of facing away from his father; it was like talking to _a wall._

“thanks pops,” he murmured with a smirk, closing his eyes in the hopes that his lurking shadow would get the message and go away. Going by the incessant impatient finger drumming on the bedside table, his devious plan wasn’t coming to light any time soon.

So, he waited until the man got bored.

“I’m going to check on Papyrus,” the still-present voice finally uttered, thankfully bringing an end to the annoying drumming pattern. “I know you won’t bother, but if you need anything, call.”

Sans snorted, “yeah, yeah. cya pops.”

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

“Look Sas!” Papyrus was one step away from being directly on top of him. “I made a block work!”

Sans smiled, still half-asleep in bed, “you made the blocks work? that’s cool.” It was a multi-coloured rubik's cube.

“Yeah! Puts all the green on the green and blue on the blue and the yellow!”

“yup.”

“Do you wanna go at it!?” Papyrus flapped his hands, nearly chucking it at his brother’s face, “I’ll mess it all up and you can try!”

“nah, it’s ok bro,” Sans' eyes were dimmed, and he looked _dog-tired_. “i’ll probably just break it.”

“No you won't!” Awe transformed the excited toddler's face, “You do it now!” he held the cube in front of his brother, of whom just vacantly stared straight past it.

“Sas?”

“wha-?” Sans blinked, glancing around the bedroom before finding the cube that was being held right in front of him. “oh.”

Papyrus lowered the cube worriedly, his arm smacking his leg, “Is Sas okay?”

“heheh, im ok bro,” Sans waved off the puzzle and threw an arm over his face with a sigh. “just tired.”

“Sas sure?” Papyrus tilted his head, “Is Sas sick? I get daddy?”

“no, no,” Sans chuckled, a little too quickly, “im fine, just need a good nap is all.”

“Oh,” Papyrus didn’t believe him, but decided to go with it anyway, “Okay. You sleep and be not sleepy. Okay?” he hugged himself tightly, dropping the cube to the floor, “I play wid daddy!”

Dad was probably too busy working all night again, but Papyrus didn’t know what else to say.

“sounds good,” Sans yawned, whether purposefully or by nature, his little brother did not know. “im gonna sleep. night pap.”

Papyrus did his best to hide the frown from his face, “Nighty night Sas...”

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

The next morning didn’t bring much luck when it came to playing games with Sans. In fact, the only mundane task he seemed to be interested in doing was sleeping. He was about to wake him up again, waddling over to the kitchen door when he was stopped by a big holey hand.

He blinked hazily, eyes wandering up to the ceiling and the tall figure towering under it.

“Daddy?”

His father was already looking down at him, brows furrowed attentively. “Hey, Papyrus. What are you doing?”

Papyrus shrugged, glancing at the door longingly again, “I wanna go see Sas!”

The only thing he’d be able to do was stand there and watch him sleep, but it was better than playing dumb puzzle games on his own.

“I believe he is asleep,” the man hummed thoughtfully to himself, fetching his glasses from the kitchen counter in search for a pen, “Actually, I think he has been asleep the majority of the past few days.”

Well, that was definitely correct. Maybe daddy would be more willing to play puzzles with him now.

“Yup! Sas a real sleepy head!” then he frowned, watching the old man traverse the kitchen. “But I lonely. Big sad. Play with daddy?”

A flicker of guilt flashed in Gaster's eyes, “I am about to go to work, I'm sorry. Perhaps when I get home?”

He should have known. Papyrus’ shoulders dropped. “Kay...”

“Although...” the father had a spontaneous idea, “I might have something that will keep you entertained in the meantime."

“Really!?” his eyes lit up and burned with red hot enthusiasm, “What is it??”

Gaster gestured a ‘follow’ motion with his finger and headed for the kitchen cupboards.

After opening one that scarcely gets used, the scientist reached in and pulled out a vial of something, kind of like how he stores magic and medicine and science-y stuff, but this one was shimmering and multi-coloured.

And it couldn’t have been too dangerous, because he then proceeded to give it to him.

Papyrus grasped the weird tube in his tiny fingers, inspecting it curiously for what it might be, or do.

“Magic?” he finally concluded, shaking the tube with fascination.

“No,” the man denied, nodding towards it, “It's called glitter.”

“Glitter?” Papyrus popped the tube open just like he'd seen his dad and even Sans do before, then poured the sand-like contents over his face. “Can I eat it?”

Was his dad... laughing?

“No, Papyrus,” he took in a small breath to hide a chuckle, “Glitter is not edible, unfortunately.”

“Oh,” Papyrus was very disappointed… it was so shiny and sparkly and cool!

“Now, I have to go to work.” Gaster handed him the pot of glittery wonderfulness and strode off to find his coat. From a distance, he called back, “Can you keep an eye on Sans, make sure he eats?”

Papyrus nodded eagerly, “I give him all my snacks and stuff!” he eyed the glitter with excitement, shaking it without thumbing the lid and squealing when it went everywhere.

He hardly noticed his father sigh at him as he shrugged on his lab coat. “Ensure you take the time to eat something yourself. I will be back around seven, if work goes well,” he headed towards the front door, swinging it open, Papyrus curiously gawking after him as it slammed shut.

Deciding that his newly found glitter will amuse his brother, Papyrus waddled over to the burgundy stairs, twiddling the vial of shimmery dust between his fingers.

“Sas!” he charged into his brother’s room armed with _fun,_ sprinting to his bedside and awaiting the startled yet amused expression upon the older skeleton.

But there was no startled reaction waiting for him.

Papyrus tilted his head. Sans was still curled up in bed and hadn’t moved a muscle since his arrival.

“Sas?” he approached worriedly, shaking the tiny vial of glitter, “I got special toy daddy gave me and it’s so pretty and cool!” his grin was wide, but the response was nothing.

Pouting, Papyrus gently placed the vial glass vial on the bedside table, causing the dust to shimmer a burnt orange under the lamp.

Well, he knew what would wake him up!

“Do Sas want a hug?!??”

A reply finally came, but not the one he was expecting. Sans’ closed eyes furrowed, a groan escaping his mouth as he tried to drag his mind to consciousness. “pap?” he groused, tiny eyelights peering through reluctant, sluggishly opening sockets, “what is it?”

A dark cloud seemed to form over Papyrus’ head. “Um… you still sleepy?” he frowned, wringing his tiny fingers together, “You been sleeping ages and I wanna play…”

Somehow, Sans managed to furrow his brow deeper, a wince emerging on his face as he rolled sideways to get a better look at his younger brother. “really? what time is it?”

“It…” Papyrus didn’t know how to tell the time yet. “Daddy go to work time!” Yes, that was it.

“oh…” Sans seemed confused, struggling to process the fact that it was now indeed morning, before nestling himself further under his massive fort of blankets. “god, im so cold.”

“Really?” It was Papyrus’ turn to be confused now, “I all warm and cosy and I not even got my sweater on yet!”

There was no use showing off about his warmth though; Sans didn’t even acknowledge him, his arms venturing from under the blanket up to his head, pressing the palms of his hands into his skull whilst gritting his teeth. “fuck, my head.”

Papyrus blanched, practically witnessing himself break out into a cold sweat with unease. He _never_ heard his brother swear before!

The younger skeleton’s eyes inspected the room nervously, as if something would magically give him the answer as to why Sans was acting so weird and being very rude!

Eventually his eyes retraced back upon the bed, noticing the jittery, trembling fingers of his brother hidden under the covers.

“You really feel cold...” Papyrus crossed his arms in thought; What was a three-year-old to do?

“yeah. think ill go take a nap.”

Okay, that did it. “Sas!! You nap for two days!! Stop!!”

The surprise etched on his face was one Papyrus had been yearning for all day. Still funny, though.

“two days?” Sans snorted, “damn, been sleeping that long, huh? welp, better, uhh,” with a wince, Sans careened himself upright and swivelled his dangling legs across the side of the bed.

After the immense endeavour to sit upright, he hung his head low, bracing himself for the next greatest task: _standing up._

“Wowie! You lazy!!” giggled the toddler, waiting for his brother's bony feet to meet the floor, the wince still present on his face.

“just super tired, pap,” Sans rubbed his temples with a groan, and quite frankly looked as of he was going to fall asleep standing.

Oh well. It's play time!

“We play blocks! Yay!” Papyrus cheered, his hands flailing around as he spoke.

You could read Sans’ face like a book, the playful proposition bringing dread to his features.

Retrieving a fistful of multi-coloured blocks and showing them to Sans, Papyrus frowned when his brother didn't even look at him, his eyes glued to the floor.

“Don't wanna play...?” the young skeleton began, gasping when Sans suddenly grunted in pain, eyes squeezed shut as he moaned shakily through clenched teeth. “Sas?!”

“s’okay,” Sans grunted, one hand grasping tightly around the hem of his shirt, “it’ll pass.”

“But you look very not well!” Papyrus could sense from within the depths of his youthful yet empathetic soul that his older brother was in pain. And going by the past few days of him constantly sleeping, this had been going on for a while.

Finally, he decided on a plan, knowing that there would be retaliation but wobbled over to the phone anyway, “I get daddy now.”

His father had taught the both of them how to contact him when he was at work from a very early age. Papyrus could do _that,_ but couldn’t yet tell the time.

Sans shot him an alarmed look, attempting to throw a hand on him but immediately slammed his eyes shut and rammed his arm back around his chest. “no. pap, listen…” he hissed, waiting a few more moments for the flare of pain to die down before continuing.

He opened his eyes and huffed, studying his younger impulsive brother with a scrutinizing stare. “don’t tell dad. ok?”

Papyrus blinked, dumbfounded at the irrational request. “Why?”

Wrenching his gaze away, Sans curled his fingers and shook his head, “just… just don’t. i don’t want him to know. promise me that, ok?”

“Umm…” Who else could help his brother? Papyrus was powerless to do anything and without his dad, he didn’t know anyone else that could fix him up! “But daddy fix you!”

Sans straightened up, his hands slowly, warily, moving away from his stomach. “…it’s ok now…uh…“ he blinked owlishly, staring down at his own hands as if they weren’t his. “it’s… happened before… it’s why i don’t wanna get up… sorry pap.”

Well, now Sans sounded out of breath. Would he really be a good brother if he told his dad? Or would he be an even worse one to let him go through it?

Papyrus pouted, feeling a familiar sense of tears welling up in his eyes when he couldn’t make a decision. Sans immediately came to his rescue, as always.

“hey, it’s ok! i’m ok. it’s gone now,” he grabbed Papyrus’ hands, pulling him towards him, “don’t cry pap, it happens sometimes. but it always goes away. promise.”

Wiping his eyes, Papyrus grasped Sans’ hands again and sniffled, “P…Pwomise?”

“yeah,” there was a genuine smile now, “i promise.”

“Umm…” Papyrus averted his gaze and flexed his fingers into fists, “Why do it do that?”

Sans tilted his head attentively, “why does it do that?”

“Uh-huh…”

“uh…” He seemed to be withholding something, pondering on whether he should confess this deep dark secret he was holding inside. “well, you remember when dad came and got me from the school?”

Papyrus nodded, “Yeah, you got sad and mad coz you fink a toy was real but it was not so daddy saved you from the toy!”

“yeah,” Sans snorted, the sarcastic type, “there really was a toy gun there, but uh…” he paused, then chuckled to himself, “you really aren’t gonna believe this, this is why i don’t even wanna tell dad.”

“I be…bel…” it was a big word for Papyrus, “Bell…eee… you!!”

“uh-huh.”

“I will!”

“if you say so.”

“Sas!!”

“ok! ok! i uh… before dad arrived, there was this kid. my age. pretending to be my friend. i believed him. i fuc—i believed him. but uh…”

Papyrus harrumphed in frustration. Why was Sans sugar-coating it?

“there was two guns, pap. and one of them was real.”

His bored eyes instantly widened. “What?!! He have real shoot??”

“yup. and i was so freaked out dad didn’t believe me and thought i was just in one of those bad places.”

Sans half-heartedly tapped at his chest, “shot me right here, heheh.”

“Oh my god!!!” Papyrus jumped up and ran to the phone again, “Gotta tell daddy! Tell daddy now!!”

“no, pap! what did i just say?”

Half panicked and half reluctant, Papyrus slumped his shoulders, still eying the phone out the corner of his eye. “Not tell anything to daddy…”

“yeah. don’t tell dad anything.”

“But why?!” he shrieked, flapping his arms around aimlessly, “Big toy not toy shooty toy go in your tummy and make big hole!!”

“there’s no hole, pap,” Sans sighed, rubbing his aforementioned ‘tummy’, “did ya really think he didn’t check?”

Papyrus blinked. “Oh. No hole?”

“no hole. i thought there would be, but there wasn’t. dad just thinks the damage is from overusing magic, which i guess it is.”

“I… confusled…” Papyrus tilted his head, gazing at his ribs, “If no hole… then why ouchy?”

Sans snorted at his choice of words, shaking his head, “cause it freaking hurts. being shot at hurts. i’ve managed to pass it off as a magic deficit but as soon as dad finds out otherwise he’s gonna go right to them. and there’s way more than them than there are us.”

Papyrus nodded attentively.

“so i gotta shut up and let it heal so no-one gets hurt. touché?”

His little brother nodded once more, having some clearer understanding of Sans’ reasoning behind the pain and his silence. It did make sense, after all. Papyrus just _really_ wished that his dad were allowed to know so that he could fix his brother.

“anyway, i have magic now. i could try to train in that.”

That sounded exciting!!

Papyrus leapt up in excitement, “And den what??!”

“then…uh… i dunno…”

“guess i’ll give them a bad time.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids at school decide to get rid of Sans once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! It's my birthday tomorrow! Sorry that my updates have been sporadic af but you can have this lol
> 
> TW for severe bullying/abuse (it isnt even bullying anymore at this point it's just violence from people who want Sans dead :( )

_His little brother nodded once more, having some clearer understanding of Sans’ reasoning behind the pain and his silence. It did make sense, after all. Papyrus just really wished that his dad were allowed to know so that he could fix his brother._

_“anyway, i have magic now. i could try to train in that.”_

_That sounded exciting!!_

_Papyrus leapt up in excitement, “And den what??!”_

_“then…uh… i dunno…”_

_“guess i’ll give them a bad time.”_

**....**

**....**

**....**

Sitting in front of the TV with the family was an opportunity that seldom came to pass. The boys knew this was a rare chance to spend time with their father, of whom was almost always planted in front of a desk – _if_ he was even at home.

Therefore, every moment they got to spend together was a treasure, every second precious to them, and yet…

Somewhere deep down, they knew he was doing it for a reason. As much as their father loved them, it was incredibly unlike him to take a break from work out of kindness or compassion. There was always some kind of twisted, methodical reason behind such an act.

So, half-tense, half-intrigued and laying on their dad’s ribcage while watching television, the two brothers couldn’t help but exchange questioning glances between each other.

Sans had told Papyrus yesterday to keep his human-inflicted injury a secret. Judging by their father’s sudden desire to sit in a room with them for hours on end, he was already suspecting something.

Waiting.

For one of them to slip up.

But no, this was definitely out of love and the yearning to spend quality family time together.

“y’know, i’ve been feeling a lot better lately,” Sans muttered a white lie, hoping his surprisingly amazing story of wellness and magical recovery didn’t fool his already overly observant father.

“In that case, I assume you will be ready to go back to school tomorrow?”

A flood of dread swallowed him in an instant.

“u-uh…” he forced a smile, determined to prove to his father and Papyrus that he was better. “yeah? yeah, ok.”

School was the last place he wanted to be, full of bullies that wanted rid of him. The day Papyrus is old enough to enter school, Sans would fight tooth and bone to ensure he doesn’t end up in the same one.

“Excellent.” His father didn’t seem to care for his predicament, “I will speak to your supervisor, you need magical training.”

Sans’ voice was quiet, “can’t you do it?”

He was the most powerful monster in the underground after all. Possibly the surface, too.

“With what time?” Gaster questioned, an amused brow quirked at his ridiculous question, “If I could, I would. Alas, I dedicate the majority of my life to bringing the CORE’s power to the surface. I simply do not have a minute to tutor you as well.”

“but can’t you just find someone to do that for you?”

“Sans…” his father huffed in frustration, “As far as I am aware, I am the only person capable of achieving such a feat, when the time comes. Magical training however is taught globally by millions of people.”

“fair enough,” Sans rubbed his eyes with a gruff sigh, “only if the person teaching me is a monster too.”

“Be careful.” Gaster’s tone dropped an octave, suddenly gruff and serious, “Not all humans are portrayed as they have been for the last couple of weeks. I do not want you thinking they all intend to do harm.”

How does he know which of them to trust? Several kids have already betrayed him, and it was impossible to tell who was being real. _If_ any human would ever be real.

Would any human ever even like him? Or were they all doomed to hate him?

His eyes stared unseeingly at the television, the weight of an unwelcome imagination pressing on his shoulders.

Gaster turned to him, narrowing his sockets whilst readjusting his grip on Papyrus. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

Sans hastily shook his head. “nah. look forward to it.” It was a bitter lie his father no doubt saw through.

“Indeed.”

Papyrus squirmed uncomfortably in the man's lap, more so for the secret that he held inside tightly, rather than his position. Sans briefly caught a glimpse at him, aware and relieved for his silence.

“You two should rest now. It is late, and you will be getting up early."

The fingers of a nervous child tightened around his collar, enough so that it was noticeable.

“Is there a problem?”

“no!” Sans leapt to his feet, gesturing for Papyrus to follow suite, “guess i was just snug. see ya tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Sans.” There was still a hint of apprehension in his voice, but he let him go nonetheless.

Sleep was important for children.

**....**

**....**

**....**

“Hey, you little creep.”

_oh no._

A group of kids pulled up to him in an abandoned bathroom, every one of them human. The shorter blonde one spoke. “Thought we got rid of you.”

Sans chose not to respond.

“Aww, I think he didn’t learn his lesson from the first time, bro.”

“You know what, I think you're right.”

“leave me alone.”

“Or what?” a tall boy snorted, his black hair blending in nicely with the blazer, “You gonna tell your _daddy_ on me?”

“im not gonna tell him anything, i said so.” Sans felt sick. “i just want to be left alone.”

“How _are_ your ribs doing, anyway?” the shorter one approached, although still slightly taller than the skeleton himself. “Last I saw you, my bro shot you in the chest with an epic chemical gun and your dad didn’t even care!”

“Hahaha I remember that! That was awesome!” the second boy mimed a gun shooting gesture and chuckled, “I'm so freaking glad you brought the spare toy one too, or we'd be in big trouble.”

His _ribs_ had been burning fire for days. It felt like a constant stream of acid was pouring on them... maybe it was.

“why are you so violent?” the eight-year-old blinked nervously, awaiting another attack that could come on at any moment, “i don’t get it. i haven’t even done anything to you. nobody in my family has.”

The tall boy chuckled, glancing over to his companion as if to say – _is he for real?_

But the blonde kid didn’t take any notice, seeming to be in thought himself. And the question he then uttered afterwards almost threw Sans off guard.

“How old is your dad again?”

Sans flicked his gaze between the two boys and shrugged, “umm… i dunno really,” he muttered nonchalantly at the off-putting question, “we skeletons are pretty much immortal when it comes to age.”

“Yeah, I know that,” the kid snorted, then gestured his head to him again, “How long has he been on this planet?”

“i don’t know!” Sans winced, backing up slightly, expecting a hostile response. “at least one hundred years, i guess?”

“Damn.” the younger kid spoke, chuckling to himself again, “No wonder he’s got all that power. You have basically nothing.”

“well, it’s not a very fair measurement. i’m only eight. but when i’m older i’ll have lots of power, just like my dad!”

The short kid snorted, “Bold of you to assume you’ll even live long enough to reach that level.” There was the threats to his life again. What was it all for?

“maybe we can just talk about this—”

The tall kid suddenly advanced, making Sans jump, “I think not, little man,” his face fell abruptly into stern lines, predatory eyes searing holes into him, “Your dad didn’t give my mother time to _sit and talk about it_ when he killed her ten years ago!”

Sans felt hot and cold; suddenly he was utterly detached from life. “your…mother?”

The blonde enraged kid looked equally as lost, probably more out of despair than shock. “Yeah, your dad killed my mom.”

“what…” he blinked, unseeing and confused, “my dad wouldn’t do something like that. not for no reason.” Then, he snarled, a wave of motivational energy crashing over him, “i bet she was just a psycho bitch.”

He knew he would regret speaking those words the second they left his mouth.

The once scowling face rapidly morphed into fury, his expression that of a lion ready to pounce his prey. Suddenly the human was on top of him, followed by the other kid.

“ ** _I’ll make you eat those words you piece of shit!”_**

“wait!” the small skeleton struggled under their grasp, one tall human pinning him down with hands strangling his throat while the other, smaller child suddenly stamped on his wrist.

Sans _screamed._

Or at least _tried_ to, a hand suddenly thrown over his mouth.

“If you won’t die then I’ll make you suffer as much as I freaking can! I’ll make you cry so much everyone in school will think you’re weak shit! No-one even likes you, skeletal freaky fucking son of a bitch!”

Sans’ chest rapidly rose and fell, fight of flight instincts kicking in at their most frantic, begging his magic to summon a blaster. But as soon as the skeletal structure of the skull appeared, it immediately fizzled away.

This caught the attention of the younger kid, “Look! Did you see that?” he was in tears of laughter, “He can’t even summon his attack anymore! We completely fucked him up!”

It was no doubt the ‘chemical gun’ they shot him with the other day, the substance gradually seeping into his bones as the days rolled on and now he couldn’t even summon a defence.

The other kid didn’t even seem to care, fierce eyes full of rage and the need to kill.

“After I’m done here you’ll never insult my mother ever again.”

Sans’ eyes were blown wide, breaths sawing in and out through the palm covering his mouth.

“I know you better than you know yourself,” the blonde hissed in his ear, the rigid line of his mouth melting into a twisted grin, “Rip his freaking leg off.”

His breath caught in his throat. Panic surged through his bones; Sans _knew_ what would happen if they pulled a little too hard. He was weak, unable to even summon a blaster, indicating his magic wouldn’t be able to keep his limbs together if enough force were used.

Two firm hands wrapped around his leg, one under his kneecap and the other his shin, and yanked. _Hard._

Sans let out a blood-curdling scream, muffled by the hand wrapped around his mouth.

He tried to flail, unable to do much with the other boy pinning him down.

And then it happened again. An immense forceful pull, his vision going white as he screamed unseeingly into oblivion.

“How do you like that, huh? How do you like… **_THA-_** _“_

Another scream.

Tears were spilling out of his sockets now, but he didn’t care.

He had to get out.

Or he was going to die.

_i want to go home!_

“I could kill you right now if I wanted to.”

Sans moaned in agony, the world filled with only grey and an echoey, distant voice.

“But I’m going to make you suffer instead. Just like my mom suffered.” He felt something wedge between his ribs. Pressing against his soul like a thick cushion. He gagged.

“And if you tell anyone, I will find them. And I will do the same thing to them.”

**_BANG._ **

**....**

**....**

**....**

**....**

**....**

**....**

He landed in snow.

He was still hyperventilating.

And he couldn’t feel his leg.

It took a while for his panicked mind to realise he was somewhere else, away from them. He just didn’t understand what happened, where he was, if he was even _safe_.

_how did i end up here…?_

Eventually though, when he processed the fact the humans were nowhere to be seen, his breathing began to decelerate. Shallow, rapid breaths faded into deep, spluttered slow ones, coughing as his vision slowly returned to him.

The air felt still, cold. It was dark, and yet it wasn’t? The sky was grey, absent of the rushing sound of wind.

And it was snowing?

Sans exhaled a harsh breath, his distracted mind now attempting to survey his surroundings. Swallowing hard, he rolled himself onto his side, wincing with a harsh squeal of anguish that radiated from his knee.

In the distance, there was a brick building with an illuminated sign, numerous people— _monsters_ , _thank god,_ walking in and out of the establishment. It looked warm. It looked _safe._

So, through sheer power of will and desperation to be around other monsters, Sans dragged himself to his feet, ignoring the unwelcome tears that spilled whilst his left leg burned agony within the background noise of his tortured mind.

Shifting all of his weight onto his right leg, he hobbled over through the dense, crisp snow, sluggish and stiff but with the hopeful knowledge that he would get to shelter eventually.

He ignored all the weird looks people gave him; some etched with worry, some disgusted and some horrified. It was because of his leg, he knew. And he had no desire to look at it.

Someone opened the door for him, staring with visible confusion at the skeleton as if they had never seen one before. They were a monster, so he was safe at least.

The orange glow of the interior bathed him in warm, noisy light, albeit hazy and distorted.

Loud chattering, laughter, clinking of glasses and plates filled his ears.

But they gradually came to a complete halt, and for a second Sans thought he had lost his hearing among everything else.

Then he realised—they were all staring at him.

_what the hell is so funny? have they never seen a broken leg before?_

He glanced down at above-mentioned leg, and saw something else entirely.

He knew why they were looking at him.

Dark blue fluid dripped into puddles onto the floor, some landing on his foot, some of it on his hands.

His mind didn’t know how to process this.

His knees collapsed to the wooden flooring with a _**thwack**._

_“Oh my god! Someone help!”_

Sans didn’t know how long he had been kneeling there, staring at the festering pool of what was quite possibly the monster equivalent of blood.

But he did know he was going to die, judging by the cesspool of blue under his knees and the extra liquid he was gagging up as he heaved.

The next thing he knew he was staring up at the ceiling, laying in something wet. He closed his eyes.

It was probably his crying. Somehow he was laying on a puddle of his own tears.

A voice was there. Their knuckles were rubbing at his sternum.

“Hey. Hey, open your eyes.”

Sans obeyed with great adversity. His eyelids were thick glue, the room a carousel stuck on an endless loop of rotation.

The monster leaning over him frowned, cradling his forehead with a forced sympathetic smile. “You poor thing, what happened to you?”

Sans moaned wordlessly.

_Dark._

**....**

**....**

**....**

**....**

**....**

**....**

His fitful sleep was rudely awakened by someone slapping his face.

“Come on, wake up!”

It was a new voice, one he hadn’t heard before.

Once again, and out of pure curiosity more than anything else, Sans pried his eyes open, slightly taken aback by the fiery creature currently staring down at him. His attention drifted off to gaze blankly at the multitude of people sitting beside him.

_“I think this is one of Gaster’s.”_

_“I’ve never seen him before.”_

_“Can he understand standard?”_

_“Maybe he only speaks in Wingdings.”_

_“Hey, kid…”_

“Hey.” The voice called his attention back again. Sans dragged his eyes away from the commotion of people and back to the blaze. “Do you understand me?”

Meekly, Sans nodded. Ensuring the creature was looking at him, he lifted a wobbly hand, indicating in the vague direction of his leg and voicing a single utterance.

“hurts.”

The creature seemed relieved at his understanding of language and glanced behind him, following the pointing finger and then turning his face back towards Sans with a concerned frown. “I know, it seems broken, unfortunately.”

“Is he badly hurt? Should I call an ambulance?”

“No, don’t bother causing a hassle, I believe I can handle it.” The fiery creature met the skeleton’s eye, moving a hand to his shoulder, which oddly didn’t scald him. “What’s your name?”

Sans shrunk into himself slightly, “sans.”

“That sounds familiar. Maybe I have seen you before. Anyway…” Sans was suddenly hoisted up in the air, lifted and held protectively against a shoulder. “My name is Grillby. I own this restaurant. But right now I am going to treat your leg.”

_Grillby_ began to walk steadily across the room with the child secured tightly to his chest, whilst he gazed down at the moving floorboards hazily, plucking at the tie of the man’s waistcoat. He called out to the onlookers, probably employees. “Watch the bar while I’m gone.”

The request was followed by a trail of ‘ _yes sir’s’_ and numerous people striding past him.

Every now and then, and despite Grillby walking as steadily as he could, Sans took in a sharp breath, the movement sometimes jolting his bad leg and causing a shot of pain to run up his limbs.

Eventually, Sans found himself being gently seated on a bench of some sort, forcing himself to sit upright for this kindly new creature he just met.

Pushing the door shut, Grillby hummed to himself and joined Sans on the wooden bench. Once again, the material didn’t catch alight. How odd!

Grillby meticulously wrapped Sans’ leg with bandages, muttering apologies for every time the poor child winced or gasped from the pain. One heavy brow remained slanted as he worked, soon inquiring, “Does your dad know you’re here?”

Sans did his best to avoid shrinking away from him as he lied, “…yeah.”

“I presume he is on his way?”

“yeah.”

The elemental’s penetrating stare searched the depths of Sans’ soul for deceit, the lightheaded skeleton child staring back with immense concentration. Grillby ultimately submitted, leaning back at a job well done. “Alright.”

Despite his leg now all neatly wrapped up to his knee, Grillby continued to stare fixatedly at him, his old eyes sharp with intelligence and contemplation. Then, he crossed his arms over his chest.

Sans squirmed uncomfortably under his hard gaze.

“How did the blood from your leg get up to your chest?”

“uhh…” Sans sensed his soul race in time with his mind as he sought to come up with a reasonable excuse. The constant threat of fainting from his dizziness wasn’t helping. “guess i wiped my hands all over myself to get the blood off.”

“I see.” He didn’t believe him. “That is a lot of blood for only a leg, I must say.”

“yeah, uh…” he blinked, his vision suddenly morphing together into a blur. Grillby’s face split off into two, defocusing and sliding around with the room. “uhhh… i guess… uhh…”

He exhaled a long breath, his eyes narrowing to slits as the vague dizziness quickly developed into weakness. “i don’t… i…uh…”

A hand was at his shoulder in an instant. “Are you alright?”

Sans released another breath, and suddenly it felt like his last.

Overcome with an intense weakness, Sans suddenly slumped sideways, groaning as his lucidity left him.

_“Sans?”_

_“Sans! Talk to me!”_

His entire body felt separated from his mind. Like clockwork, his eyes rolled back.

“ _Sans!”_

Then his limbs tensed up.

_“Shit. Alright, alright.”_

He was vaguely aware of hands cupping his face, despite feeling as if he was having an out-of-body experience. Then a loud voice suddenly boomed into his ear.

**_“Seizure!”_ **

Footsteps stormed into the room.

_“Amara, get on the phone to Dr Gaster’s workplace and get him down here.”_

_… clearly he didn’t believe me._

_“Yes sir.”_

_“Torres, get me the first aid kit.”_

_“But don’t you have it already? I mean, the bandag—”_

_“Yes I’ve only used the bandages and now I need the whole kit, **go!”**_

_“Yes sir.”_

_“Robbins, get his head, I need to check something.”_

It went silent for a moment, or at least silence amidst the sound of shuffling.

The vibration of a zip being undone, and then…

_“Oh my f—”_

_“My god.”_

_“Well, there's the source of his seizure.”_

More rapid footsteps, followed by a voice announcing itself from far away.

_“Dr Gaster is on his way.”_

_“Good. Guard the door, make sure no-one else comes in.”_

_“What the hell is that? There’s so much blood!”_

_“I’m not sure, but it looks dangerous. Don’t touch it.”_

The world so monotone and colourless gradually seemed to seep back into life like watercolour running down on a grey canvas.

A twinge of what felt like electricity traversed up his arms, and little by little he realised he was still alive.

“He’s moving – hey, you back with us?”

“mmhmmm…” It was hard to speak while underwater.

The fiery guy was speaking again, “How did your ribs get in that condition?”

Sans sluggishly shrugged, grousing a _no idea_ noise at the back of his throat. It probably had something to do with the multiple chemical gunshots lodged into his ribcage, but he didn’t need to know that. Not if he wanted to live.

From a distance, two voices were shouting at each other.

_“No, you can’t go in there, you can’t go—”_

_“I have every right to go in there!”_

_“I’m afraid you can’t—”_

_“ **Get off me!”**_

The fire elemental shouted from above him, “Let him in!”

Moments later and heavy footsteps stormed into the room, Sans could sense by the shuffle of clothes hitting the wooden floor that someone else had entered the room and was kneeling beside him.

“What on earth happened to him?”

Grillby’s voice was authoritive, in control, “I don’t have the faintest idea. His ribs are completely wrecked, his leg is broken, and you just missed him fitting.”

“He had a _seizure?_ ”

“Yes, I’m quite sure it was something to do with whatever the hell is on his ribs. Look at them.”

“Oh… good heavens.”

Fingers grazed his ribcage, sending a jolt of agony ravaging through his body—Sans _screamed,_ suddenly sure that whoever had come in was a human. So he flailed, eyes pinging open as he tried to escape the evil blurry mess that was on top of it.

The creature caught his wrists, and their grip was so _tight,_ immediately Sans knew that he wasn’t going to be able to escape this time.

But he wasn’t going down without a fight, so he frantically flailed his arms around in the hopes he would hit something solid.

“Hey. Hey, it’s me-“ the hands had his wrists a vice grip, somehow strong enough to keep his arms still, “Sans? It’s me, it’s your father, calm down. It’s alright. I’m here now.”

Sans blinked owlishly. “dad?” his voice was hoarse from disuse and the occasional screaming.

“Yes,” The creature above him seemed so obvious now, his form taking on the shape of his father’s work clothes, “It’s alright.”

“it’s not alright,” Sans frowned, wincing at his frantic movements had jostled his hurting ribs, “im gonna die.”

“You’re not going to die.” The firm hands began to release their grip now, allowing Sans to rest his arms by his sides again, “You seem to be quite grievously injured. From _what_ exactly I have yet to ascertain, but I will fix you.”

“fix me?” Sans was quite sure that he was going to die here. In fact, he had made peace with it. “how?”

Grillby’s tone was grave, glancing over to the man whilst he inspected the bandaged leg. “He’s in critical condition, Gaster. Look at his ribs,” his gloved hands indicated down at his chest, mere inches away from contact. “They are a touch away from falling off.”

Sans had no idea what his ribs looked like but going by all the fuss around it and the constant stream of pain, he assumed it was pretty horrific sight to behold. Both his father and Grillby was staring down at his chest as if it held some prestige piece of ancient gold worth a million dollars.

Gaster adjusted his glasses, analysing the state of him without daring to touch the fragile bones. “I’m aware. From observing the extent of the damage I have already determined they cannot be saved, so I will have to reconstruct them,” then he added for good measure, “It will not be a problem, I created them in the first place after all.”

_cool, we’re getting philosophical now. just what i need._

“It’ll take a lot out of you. Do you really still have the strength to do so?”

“This is what is required of me, so, of course.”

Unable to restrain the curiosity any longer, Sans forced himself to bend forward and take a look at his ribcage himself, despite the agonistic protests of his body.

But what was presented before him was certainly a predicament indeed. His hoodie was wholly tinged with dark blue, his ribcage was either shattered or covered with black goop, and most concerningly of all, the wetness he was laying in seemed to be the same liquid leaking out of his back.

_“oh god.”_

The two men stared at his upright stance for a split second, before his father shoved his head back to the floor. “Stay down, don’t try to move. Grillby, how trained in the field are you?”

Grillby’s eyes blazed as fierce as his own fiery figure did. “I’m quite well versed in first-aid, as preparation for the coming war.”

“Would you be comfortable in assisting me back in the lab? I should warn you it will be gruesome.”

“I will do what I can to help, I don’t mind if it gets grisly.”

“Good. Hold onto me.”

Sans found himself being gently embraced before the world turned a relieving shade of nothing.

…


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans has some BBQ ribs

_“Grillby, would you be comfortable in assisting me back in the lab? I should warn you it will be gruesome.”_

_“I will do what I can to help, I don’t mind if it gets grisly.”_

_“Good. Hold onto me.”_

_Sans found himself being gently embraced before the world turned a relieving shade of nothing._

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

Gaster charged through the living room of his house with Sans in tow, cursing inwardly at himself when Papyrus came running downstairs at the sound of their arrival.

There was a terrible gasping cough coming from the semiconscious skeleton, his limbs quivering in a desperate man’s arms.

“I know, I know. Hold on.”

Regardless, he and Grillby continued to make large strides to the hallway elevator, trying to ignore the toddler that galloped after them.

“Sas?!!” Panic etched into Papyrus' features, frantically chasing the men into the elevator that had his limp brother in arms. “Sas!? What wrong wid Sas??”

Grillby fisted the elevator button to close and glanced down at the toddler. “I take it this is your other one?”

Papyrus reached his arms out towards Gaster to touch his brother. “Daddy?! Why is he all blue??”

The injured skeleton was wrapped so tightly in his father's embrace that the man might accidentally crush him before anyone could even _reach_ the lab.

Gaster caught the jittery toddler's eye and explained matter-of-factly, “Your brother is very unwell, Papyrus. I'm sorry you had to see him like this.”

“Is he gonna go to sleep forever?!” he cried, unwilling to wrench his eyes away from Sans.

His eyes were ablaze with fury and restrained anxiety, “I will endeavour to avoid that at all costs.”

The doors couldn’t open fast enough—Gaster charged through the opening and strode in search for the room commonly used for testing.

Laying the child down on an examination table, Gaster tore off the rest of the hoodie. He ground his jaw at the sight of dark blue staining the white fluff, screwing it up into a ball and hurling it to the side.

His staff quickly filtered in, throwing hands over their mouths and gasping at the shock in front of them.

But Gaster was already barking orders before they could get a chance to process it.

He covered Sans' legs with a sheet, “Get me a sheet to cover him. And section apart his tainted ribs, mark the areas we can use to restructure the healthy bone.”

“Gaster,” Grillby suddenly began from his side, “This is no place for a toddler. He can’t be here with what we're about to do to his brother.”

Oh, right. Yes. Papyrus was still here.

The toddler overheard the elemental's remark and toddled over to Sans, crossing his arms in defiance.

“Nuh uh. I stay wid Sas.”

Thankfully, Grillby took care of the three-year-old so that the scientist could focus on the brother in trouble.

“I'm afraid you cannot stay here. What's your name?” He already knew the answer, but a distraction from the sight behind them was necessary.

Meanwhile, Gaster hauled over an overhead light and aimed it above his subject's sternum.

“I Papyrus...” Papyrus mumbled with a pout, “Is Sas hurted by da bad people?”

“Yes, the bad people have made him sick. But he wouldn't want you to be here watching him, would he?”

“My god, what happened to his chest wall?” one of the assistants gasped, the extent of the damage now clear as day with the extra light. “Looks like it exploded!”

“Perhaps it did,” Gaster groused, retrieving a tool and scraping a sample of the goopy black substance off his sternum. “It seems to be a chemical that has burned through the bones of his ribcage.”

The assistant tilted his head, watching the wounded skeleton curiously. “A chemical weapon?”

Papyrus hugged himself worriedly, waddling up to his brother and jumping up on the table just before Grillby caught him.

“No! No, you can't go up there,” he hoped the toddler didn’t catch a glimpse of Sans' state. “Can you wait outside until we are done?”

“But I wanna stay with Saaas!!” Papyrus stamped his foot, “He not well!”

“I know, we are trying to look after--"

“I stay with Saaaas!!!"

 _"Papyrus!"_ Gaster interrupted the defiant skeleton with a demanding visage, "Leave the room _now_. I will get you when you can return.”

“But...” Papyrus pouted, watching his father’s infuriated expression and sniffing sadly before skulking over to the door, “Kay...”

The other scientists waited for the door to hiss shut before continuing.

Sans’ half-conscious state stared up at his father, an utter depression of soul that just wanted all the madness to end, somehow able to convey the meaning of such with only sad eyes while his father’s watchful gaze remained inexpressive and vacant.

“pap probably thinks he upset you now. congrats.”

“Be quiet.”

A female lab assistant finished investigating his charred ribcage, leaning back to express her findings. “All his ribs except the 4th and 7th are completely unsalvageable.”

Gaster sighed quietly; he knew deep down the extent of the injuries was too severe to fix. Call it a hunch.

“Then we will have to remove them and reconstruct as planned.”

With one hand on the child's shoulder, he glanced up at his assistants. “I need to check his back, assist me with rolling him.”

And so they did.

As they turned him, Sans moaned into his arm, squeezing his eyes shut in a vain effort to block out the pain.

It very quickly became clear to the scientist friend circle that none of them were going home on time tonight.

“Don’t touch it.”

“Oh boy…” The voices from beside him didn’t seem to bring very good news. “Whatever that chemical was, it’s seeping through, look. Look at this…”

Sans flinched at the unexpected touch to his back. “It appears to have leaked into the thoracic section of his spine… T9 to… T13, I would say.”

“Who the hell did this to him?”

Freezing up, Sans waited wide-eyed with trepidation for his father to react – the bullies told him that they would do the same thing to his family if their identity was ever revealed.

“I am not sure. But I intend to track them down.”

_god, no._

A finger grazed his spine - he jolted again with a barely restrained whimper. Then, his father proclaimed, “It has not yet reached his spinal cord, fortunately this can be fixed.”

Sans whimpered pitifully, staring unseeingly on his side while curious hands continued to search him like a test subject rather than an injured child.

“stop touching me. please.” His voice was small, worried his verbal presence would annoy the strangers.

There was no sense of mercy from his father, unfortunately. “I'm sorry, but I need to assess the damage. You are grievously injured.”

“just stop.”

No response.

Fingers continued to touch the trigger spots of agony whilst he fought the urge to squirm.

“dad, stop. _please.”_

He hissed as something sharp touched a particularly painful spot. “Try to stay calm. You will be alright.” He then assumedly addressed his staff, “Return him onto his back, we will start removing the damaged ribs.”

“god...” Sans hissed through clenched teeth as he was turned, wishing he had the energy to summon _a_ weapon. _Any_ weapon.

The notion of weapons sent him reminiscing. His mind raced at the thought of what his bullies might do when discovering his ribs had been fixed. More specifically, the threat to mirror his torment onto his brother and father.

“wait…”

Suddenly, the torturous sound of equipment clattering tauntingly on a tray made his soul skip a beat, fibrillating in the uncomfortable premonition of fear.

“wait. nonono, i don’t wanna do this!”

“Relax.”

“no. nope. you can’t.”

“I can.”

“stop.”

“No.”

“please.” He couldn’t hide the tremor in his voice this time, “just stop.”

“Sans...”

The sea of overwhelmed floodgates broke, washing a rapid loss of control and desperation over the skeleton as he begged for their lives.

“please! just, just no more. no more. please... please...”

“If I don’t do this, you will die.” Gaster quirked a concerned brow when his son’s hands tightly snatched his wrist, a pleading look in emotional pale eyes. “It's alright, do not stress yourself.”

“no... n-n-no more. im... im scared. i can't do it.” he had his father’s struggling hands in a tight grip.

“You can, it will be al-"

“no! nonononostop-stop-youcant...”

“Sans-"

“idontwanttoidontwanttoidontwant-"

“Hey, look at me,” his skull was clutched, “Remember what we talked about. Breathe. Control yourself.”

“icantcantcantnonocantnocant-ah-ah-!” his eyes somehow grew even wider, “ahh-ahh!”

“Slow your breathing. Your hyperventilation is affecting your ribs.”

“Sir? What do we do?”

“whywhywhywhy—ah!—ow!"

“Just give me a minute.”

“But his stats are dropping!”

“I said give me a minute. Buy him more time.”

“nononoicant” **_gasp_** _“_ cantbreathecantsee” **_gasp_** _“_ i-I-I-cant- _cant_ \--" A shrill alarm abruptly sounded.

“Sans!” Gaster shouted, struggling to grab his attention, “If you don’t calm down I will sedate you into next week!”

Oh, that sounded amazing.

“ _do it…”_ Sans heaved pitifully, his grip on the scientist’s hands tightening even further, remembering the first time he became injured by alcohol poisoning and the subsequent drill six inches into his hip. “do it, please. but, but, no needles. ok?”

“... Alright.”

Sans was just about to release a sigh of relief when his soul felt like it was being tugged, unable to move his mouth to respond with grateful intent. The sensation grew vivid, green dots appearing over the grey ceiling.

“Alright,” Gaster murmured again, eyes swirling a similar shade of green. “Close your eyes.”

Momentarily distracted by the odd sensation, Sans shuddered but shut his eyes, the action an alleviation and comfort that he wished he knew about before.

Then, it felt like he was sinking.

“uhh...” Did he mention it was hard to move his mouth?

“How does that feel?” his father's voice sounded... strained.

Regardless, Sans was sinking into the table, the metal now very soft and cosy and comfy and-

“Hmm?”

Oh, yes. Gaster was still here, somewhere.

“good. feels...funny. but good.”

_“Sir, what are his base stats supposed to be again?”_

“At his age, 400.”

_“Uhh… okay.”_

“What is it?”

_“You mean his maximum? It’s somehow gone down to 210? Is that normal?”_

Aaand there goes the brief sense of serenity.

“What?” there was a beat of silence, presumably as the complicated monitors told everyone how stupid his stats were. “Ah.”

The sinking feeling grew over him like quicksand, sinking helplessly yet complicity into the table.

Until it swallowed him whole.

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

**_....._ **

Reawakening to darkness accompanied with a thick brain fog left him confused, exhausted and frankly scared.

It took deep mental prowess to slowly break through the surface of water, allowing his ribs to exude horrendous searing _agony_ , squeezing and crushing the bare bones of his chest until he couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t remember why, or how. Only that it hurt. Bad.

It didn’t take long before he found himself tearing up again, the warm liquid falling so suddenly it was as if the tears were sentient, waiting on standby for him to wake up and start crying.

As he descended further into the deep caves of his mind, Sans couldn’t help but gasp for fresh air, the walls of the void closing in, the darkness was suffocating. His ribs – or what was left of them – heaved up and down with rapid pace but brought no benefit.

“Sas?”

Oh, that was a voice that brought such immense relief. It was one of affection, a bond so strong his soul could feel his presence from a mile away.

“pap?” he somehow managed to find time for a half-breathless murmur through his rapid panting, searching the dark room for his little brother.

“You wake now?” his voice was laced with worry; Sans didn’t need to see the little guy’s face to know that he was pouting.

“yeah,” Sans breathed, squeezing his eyes shut for a second to pace himself for another phrase, “im awake.”

“Oh Sas!!” he was shouting now, his scared voice shaking, “I was so worry! When… when i hear daddy come home and you were very not well, and they not let me stay! And, I say I did! I say I do stay I swear! But they say no, hmm nuh-uh papyrus, you gotta leave! So I did! But I was vewy worry and I sowwy I not—”

“hey, it’s ok,” Sans huffed out a sigh, exhausted yet wanting to calm his brother, “honestly? im glad you weren’t there…” he trailed off, realising how bad that sounded the second the words left his mouth. “…but not in that way.”

“Okay, I fink I get it,” a small skeleton hand slipped into his, a pressure Sans didn’t even know was weighing on his soul lifting as fingers curled around his. “Daddy fixed you all up. I said he can! You wanna see daddy?”

Sans’ expression closed at the thought of facing his father right now. “no, pap. i just… no.” he drew in a breath, “i wanna just, y’know. just us two. yeah?”

“Oh, okay.” Thankfully, he didn’t seem too alarmed or upset about it, if at all. “I… I happy you ok, Sas. I…” in his voice, Sans heard him sniffle.

Was he crying? But what for? He was okay now, right?

“what’s the matter bro?”

“I…”

The air was filled only with the sound of suppressed sniffling and Sans’ own ragged breathing. Clearly something had been eating at Papyrus for a while now.

“I… just… nothing…”

“no, what is it? i want to know.”

Papyrus seemed to catch his breath, before Sans heard him sigh, and then sigh again.

“Why… you really not well anymore?”

Sans still couldn’t see him, but it was quite obvious even shrouded in darkness that the toddler was about to start weeping again, and not the tantrum kind.

“im ok now pap, you said so yourself.” Honestly, he didn’t even _know_ if he was going to be okay, but hearing Papyrus cry wasn’t an option, and it never will be.

“Sas…” a sniffle, then a whimper. “Are you gonna go sleep forever??”

A helpless agitation simmered through Sans, the astoundment of Papyrus’ imagination brought an awe of melancholy to him.

He chose his words slowly, still trying to process the harrowing thought himself. “pap… what makes you think that?"

“We-Well…” he sniffled, the hand in his growing tighter as memories surfaced to the forefront of his mind. “Daddy was shouting at dat fire guy and all the other helper people and I went oh no…”

“shouting?” Sans frowned, “about what? my ribs? they were damaged. you were in the room, heh.”

“Yeah…” Papyrus slumped over his chest, causing Sans to jolt as pain suddenly ricochet through his body. But, he remained still. Although tense, he enjoyed the comfort, and it was a little easier to see pap now. “Well… I ‘member when I looked through the door and daddy was shouting about numbers…”

“yeah, i remember that,” Sans thought to himself pensively. _and that’s the last thing i remember._

“Yeah! And then the numbers went all the way down to the number zero and he was yelling loudly at everyone!” then he shuddered, “It was a bit scary, so I didn’t come in…”

“oh.” well, that explained why he had no memory of anything else. His father, however, witnessed him almost die. And Sans knows just how _amazingly_ _well_ that his dad would deal with it. “where is he?”

“He sleepy!” Papyrus beamed, “So I sneaked in here to hug you!! But about the numbers…”

“yeah?” Sans sighed. He _really_ wanted to talk about it, apparently.

“Da big number, da big zero, it went up to one!” Papyrus’ face dropped, “And he stopped shouting at everyone… but then he started throwing things around… I think he was angry because i didn’t go away.

Oh. “no, no pap,” Sans gripped his hand tighter, “he wasn’t angry at you, believe me.” He was angry because apparently his son nearly dusted. No less in sight of _Papyrus,_ too.

“But he was angry when he told me to go away!”

Sans quietly took in another breath, using it to suppress a yawn. “yeah. cos what you saw was scary and he didn’t want you to see. but you saw anyway so… don’t tell him that, ok?”

The reply was immediate, now a million times more upbeat than his sombre tone, “Okay!” he flapped his hands on the blanket happily, leading Sans to his next question of the present.

“so, dad told you not to come in here?”

“Yeah,” Papyrus pouted, slapping the blankets a tad harder, “He… said you in… cr…t… crit…cool… dish!”

Sans blinked hazily. “critical condition?”

“Yeah!”

_damn. dad and his unnecessarily scary big words._

He snorted, “do i look like i’m in _critical condition_ to you?

Throwing his hands up, Papyrus giggled, “I dunno what dat means!!”

“Papyrus? What are you doing in here?”

_oops. time to pretend to be asleep._

“Daddy!” Papyrus curled his fingers tighter around Sans, “I wanted to check on Sas and hmmm…” he poked the bridge of his nose, “Yup! He all good!”

It took immense effort resisting the urge to snort at that.

The partially open door brought a trace of much-needed white light into the room, a soft shadow focusing on his father in the doorway. “I see.”

Papyrus is a terrible liar… but then again, wasn’t _all_ three-year-olds?

“Can I play blocks with Sas?”

Sans heard a gruff exhale from a distance.

“Not yet. He is recovering. Aren’t you, Sans?”

_oh._

“uh, yeah,” he kept his eyes screwed shut, “but i can’t hear you, cos im asleep.”

“Evidently.”

Papyrus clapped his hands excitedly, “We play blocks all together!!”

His father let him down gently, with such caring, affectionate words that ensured Papyrus wholly understand his reasoning:

“No.”

“But whhhhyyy!” Papyrus moaned, audibly stamping his boots, “I wanna play!!”

“Then I will call a guardian.”

“But--!”

“pap,” Sans exhaled, knowing his father wasn’t in the mood for this. “we'll play when i get better, ok?”

Groaning, Papyrus squinted with a hesitant nod, throwing himself over Sans with a happy squeal.

And then came the white-hot agony.

“ ** _ugg--!"_**

“Papyrus! Get off him **_now!_** ”

“don’t shout, don’t shout,” Sans hissed through gritted teeth as Papyrus jolted away with a gasp, “no need to shout at him.”

It didn’t seem to do much to calm the oncoming temper however, as his father who had been lingering by the door was now storming over.

“Do you have any idea how unwell you are?”

“yeah.” Going by what Pap told him... he wasn't great. But it didn’t matter—it was an accident.

He relayed as such. “it was an accident, don’t get mad at him.”

A heavy sigh. “I'm not upset with him. However...” he turned to the wet-eyed toddler, “You need to be careful, alright?”

“Mmmhmm...” he wiped his eyes and nodded with a sniffle, patting his big brother's head. “I sowwy, Sas...”

“it's nothing pap,” Sans genuinely smiled at him, “why don’t you show me your puzzles? i can’t play but you can show me...?” he glanced up to his dad for approval, of whom took a moment of consideration before briefly nodding.

“cool.”

The entire idea was probably a miscalculation however, as when Papyrus skipped joyfully out the room he left their father alone with Sans.

_great. i love interviews._

Keeping his eyes firmly shut, Sans tensed when slow footsteps made their way to his bed.

Silence was a nice environment for a while, until...

“How are you feeling?”

Sans snorted, muttering a word in the most expressionless tone possible. “fantastic.”

“No sarcasm. Be honest.”

“you want honesty?” he groused, fingers becoming fists, “it fuckin hurts. a lot,” he opened his eyes, vacantly yet pleadingly meeting his dad's eye. “what the hell did you do?”

Annoyingly, Gaster only glanced down at him with barely restrained pity. “You do not remember?”

“not really.”

“I removed twenty-two of your ribs and grafted new ones.”

_that's why it hurts._

“nice.” He let his eyes flutter shut again, “can you, uh,” he swallowed, somewhat humiliated, “can you make it stop hurting?”

Gaster pursed his mouth but nodded, “I can adjust your pain medication.”

“ok.” He shakily exhaled, a painful thought thickening on his mental horizon. “look, since pap isn't here... don’t go after the people that did this, ok?”

His bold question was met only with a cynical stare, and he knew instantly that the conversation was going to derail, fast.

“They shot you twice with a chemical weapon which in turn made your ribs dissolve and you want to do _nothing?”_

“yeah, uhh,” Sans smiled nervously, “guess i just won’t go to school anymore? heheh.”

“Going to school? You are never leaving the house again.”

“im really hoping that’s sarcasm because im going to get so bored.”

“Well, for the first few days at least, possibly weeks, you are not leaving that bed.”

Ohh, he’s in his _bedroom_. Well, that explains why the table he was previously bleeding on became so comfy. And the lack of lights.

And the lack of people…

…He probably should have guessed.

“as long as you promise not to go after those kids.” Who was he kidding? As soon as his dad left his room Sans was going to play blocks with Papyrus.

“You know I won’t make a promise I cannot keep.”

“touché.” he sighed, “just, for my own sanity, tell me you won’t.”

“I won’t.”

Sans snorted—at this point the statement had two different meanings. And it was better not to assume which one.

“I've adjusted your medication, you should start to feel better,” the scientist noted, then quirked a brow, “Is there anything else I can do?”

Sans shrugged. What else could one possibly want more than the news that you don’t have to be locked in your house all day?

“nah. im good.”

“If you say so.”

At that moment, Papyrus wobbled in, armed with a huge assorted pile of colourful blocks.

Excitedly, he dropped them all on the floor, watching proudly as the individual blocks scattered across the room and made a mess.

“Yay!!”

“...I will leave you to it.” Gaster feebly adjusted the glasses on his face and rather swiftly headed for the door.

**.....**

**.....**

**.....**

**.....**

“I weally happy you ok now Sas…” Papyrus steadily placed a brick on top of his twenty-story high tower, “I was weally worry that you not be ok, but you _are_ ok… and dats good because Sas make Pap happy!”

“heh, damn. you make me happy too, pap.”

Sans had managed to haul himself onto the floor to play alone with Papyrus and his dozens of blocks, out of sight and definitely not out of mind of his father.

“Hum… when does Sas go back to bed?” Papyrus’ tilted his head like an intrigued kitten seeing a bird for the first time.

“dunno. when we hear dad charging down the corridor?”

Papyrus grinned. “I listen for him! I tell Sas and then he run back to bed real fast!”

“yup, it’ll be our secret.”

They continued to lay like that for a while, spending the scarce opportunity of quality time alone together.

“can you build it really high? maybe we can have a contest.”

“Yeah!” Papyrus beamed, but his demeanour immediately dropped upon glancing at Sans and the head in his hands. “Sas?”

“im ok,” he winced, “my head is just killing me.”

He groaned, wincing at the constant throbbing pain above his right eye socket.

“Sas go bed?” Papyrus glanced rapidly between his brother and the bed, wondering how on earth he was going to drag Sans all the way over there; it felt like miles away.

“in a sec, yeah. guess im just...whew.”

“Whoo?” Papyrus sat on his knees, “Choo? Like train? Choo choo?”

Sans snorted, “no, heheh. i, uh...” he exhaled harshly, kneeling on all fours and trying to steady his breathing. “im...” he swallowed, “imgonnabesick-"

Papyrus couldn’t get out the way fast enough, familiar and harrowing dark blue patches projecting onto the floor. Narrowly missing the blocks, Sans turned away and shuddered.

“fuck, i shouldn't have got out of bed. he wasn’t kidding.”

“Silly Sas, saying da bad words... I help go back to bed!”

Sans shook his head, “no, dont. i feel like if i move im gonna...ugh.”

“I here Sas,” Papyrus rubbed a tiny hand up and down his back, “You jus’… umm…” he paused, trying to think of the word his dad used when Sans was ill, “Humm… re…relax Sas!!”

“mmmm…it’s ok, just give it a sec.”

He raggedly breathed with uncontrollable shivers, squeezing his eyes shut and attempting to hum the pain away.

“What if it really bad?” Papyrus’ optimistic voice was getting more concerned now, having noticed the weird episode wasn’t disappearing. Then, knowing Sans would shoot his idea down anyway, he settled for the easy approach. “I get daddy?”

His prophecy was fulfilled. “no.”

Watching his brother suffer was something that sent knives into Papyrus’ soul. Frowning, he was just about to send more positivity his way, when the heaving skeleton suddenly dropped from his hunched over position and slumped onto his side with a _thump._

“Oh.” That wasn’t good. His tiredness was getting too much for him. “Sas tired...” he snuggled up beside him, resting his weary head on his brother’s lap. “That ok, we sleep...”

.....

.....

.....

The nice nap with his brother was rudely awakened by a desperate voice.

“Hey, Sans, can you hear me?”

“Sans!”

Papyrus groaned at the intruder. “We sleep. Go ‘way."

Regardless, something rocked him, pushing them side to side. “Sans, if you can hear me squeeze my hand.”

He couldn’t go to sleep with all this fuss!

There was a dialling noise, and then a worried voice. “Hey, it’s me. I need help in the patient’s bedroom, he’s unresponsive and unconscious. _No_ , damn it, he’s not _asleep._ ”

Papyrus opened his eye and frowned at the long words. “Un...unspon...did?”

“I don’t have his number, do you?”

Glancing up at the intrusive voice, Papyrus nearly screamed when he saw a _human_ in front of him. Those were the bad guys right?!

Then, he glanced down at Sans. He looks quite peaceful, if you ignore the rasped breathing.

The human shoved him out the way, a phone tucked on his shoulder as he leaned other his brother.

He frantically panicked into the phone, “He’s n-not breathing, is that normal?!”

Papyrus hummed. “Skeletons breathe! Like dis!” he demonstrated the skeleton’s ability to breathe.

The human seemed to simply ignore him as he continue to blabber small nothings into the phone, “I need to—I don’t know how to—how do I—uh…okay. Okay. Umm…” he paused, evidently being fed instructions through the phone.

“I don’t… I don’t… no, _listen_ , I don’t know where he is.”

“Who you looking for?” Papyrus tapped his fingers on his brother’s skull, of whom was refusing to wake up.

“Um… hold on,” definitely evil human turned around, catching Papyrus’ eye and nodding, “Do you know where Dr Gaster is?”

Papyrus beamed, “You mean daddy?” he nodded excitedly, “He in…” he paused, “Labrador!!”

“The lab? How do you know?”

“I feel it in my soul!”

The human snorted, rolling his eyes at the retort, “Oh _great_ , you feel it in your _soul.”_

“Yeah!”

“Well, run downstairs and get him, quickly!” There wasn’t any harm in trying, was there? “I don’t know how long skeleton monsters can live without air!”

Chewing his thumb in thought, Papyrus nodded meekly, dragging himself to his feet and skipping out the door to find the disappearing dad. The human continued to shake him, rubbing his knuckles lightly on Sans’ still-growing ribs, eliciting no response. He refused to rouse from sleep.

While jogging down the corridor to the elevator, Papyrus couldn’t help but think to himself…

_Is Sans gonna go to sleep forever??!...._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The psychopaths have a new plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates. I lost motivation recently but I hope to get it back! Also, I'm aware my comments are off, it's just less anxiety provoking for me because I'm worried about what people think of my writing aaaah. But I hope you enjoy!! :D

_“Well, run downstairs and get him, quickly!” There wasn’t any harm in trying, was there? “I don’t know how long skeleton monsters can live without air!”_

_Chewing his thumb in thought, Papyrus nodded meekly, dragging himself to his feet and skipping out the door to find the disappearing dad._

_While jogging down the corridor to the elevator, Papyrus couldn’t help but think to himself…_

_Is Sas gonna go to sleep forever??!_

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

Papyrus timidly approached his father’s door, staring at the threatening giant lump of grey wood. Apparently his initial instincts was wrong, and the scientist was in fact, not, in his lab.

But he was _sure_ his next hunch was correct. He could _feel it_ in his… _bones._

“Daddy?” he daintily knocked on the door to his office/bedroom, patiently waiting for a reply.

From the other side, he heard a distracted, “ _Come_.”

Papyrus broke out into a grin, bursting through the door in excitement and scanning the room for his father. Usually he was at his desk working… but nope. Not this time. He was… in _bed?_

And seemed slightly annoyed at the interruption, his face dazed as if awoken from sleep.

“What do you need, Papyrus?”

Papyrus blinked. “Do we breathe?”

“Do we…?” Gaster frowned, sitting upright in bed to give his full attention. Purple bags drooped under his tired eyes. “Of course we do.”

“Dats weird,” Papyrus craned his head, trudging closer to the edge of the bed and flopping onto the man’s lap. “I breathe, and you breathe?”

“…Yes,” his frown was somehow growing deeper into his skull, “Why are you asking me this?”

“Hmm…” Papyrus knelt into Gaster’s embrace, thinking to himself, “Sas breathe too?”

“Yes. All skeletons breathe,” his teaching voice was in gear now. “In fact, most creatures breathe in some form or another.”

“Oh,” Well, that was odd. Didn’t that man say Sans couldn’t do it? “Dere was person wid Sas and dey say Sas no breathe. So why do I breathe?”

Papyrus felt the man tense up at his last few utterances, so he glanced up to read the expression, mindful that there was probably nothing there.

And he shrunk back at the sight.

A combination of dread and confusion dominated his father's exhausted features.

“He isn’t breathing?”

Papyrus shrugged, “Nope--!” before he could even finish the syllable Papyrus found himself suddenly sliding onto the floor watching his father now halfway across the room. He grabbed his work suitcase, before rushing out the room. Why is everyone always running?

“Daaaddyyy??” he groaned.

He was getting a bit fed up with running back and forth the house. Why couldn’t everyone just stand still and do nothing?

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

Sans had regained some form of consciousness while his little bro was gone, and unfortunately the first thing his starved mind managed to process was the fact there was a human hovering above him.

He felt worse than when he passed out, his body screaming for air but wouldn’t do so much as inhale properly without producing the sound of a strangled animal.

“Are you okay?” the human asked, his features more sincere than the other human counterparts. Right now, at this precise moment, what was there to lose?

Sans shook his head, the movement feeling like a waste of essential energy. No, he couldn’t even gasp for air.

“Okay, you’re awake at least,” he seemed rather worried, tracing his hands over half-formed ribs but hesitant to touch, lest he cause pain.

He continued, peering up at him. “Your brother went to find your dad. You’ll be okay.”

Then, as if by _magic_ , the door burst open, aforementioned father striding through with the toddler following closely behind.

Gaster noticed and turned around, demanding something of the toddler and pointing at the door. Papyrus slumped, toddling back out the room again.

Sans could only utter strangled cries for help as the scientist spun on his heel and stormed towards him. Wheezing for air that refused to come.

“Alright, alright,” he murmured whilst he knelt down, throwing the case on the floor. He kept a solid grip on his son, mostly likely for some subtle form of reassurance. “Stats?”

“Completely plummeted, back down to 0.5 again.”

This child was holding onto consciousness for dear life.

Wrenching his suitcase open, he retrieved a mask and a balloon pump, snapping the two together quickly and placing it firmly over the face of the struggling skeleton.

"It's alright. This will help. Deep breaths." Gaster instructed. "Stay awake."

“He disconnected himself from everything,” the human relayed, watching behind them apprehensively, “I think he wanted to play with Papyrus.”

Gaster continued squeezing the pump, and thus fresh air into his system, now glaring down at the disobedient child.

Of whom nearly got himself killed again for the most ridiculous reason.

“ _You stupid boy,”_ Gaster hissed half-heartedly, frowning at the confused eyes that met his. Through a change of heart, he murmured with a sigh, “... It's alright. It will begin working soon.”

Sans made a weird grunting noise at the back of his throat, his eyes rolling back.

“Hey. Stay with me. _Stay with me.”_ Without a spare hand free, he could only talk in the hopes it would catch the child’s attention.

_Oh, heavens._

“hnnnnn…”

“Hey,” he urged while he continued working, a quiet inward celebration when eyelights refocused. “Stay awake. Alright?”

A dazed but entirely cognizant nod brought him some cautious reassurance.

Then, he took a chance risking the downfalls of communication. “jus’… wanted… play… pap…”

“I know. That was stupid, wasn’t it?” he hesitantly moved a hand from Sans’ face and onto his shoulder, “Try not to talk.”

Why he expected his son to actually heed his warnings he had no idea.

“whys... everything... shit...”

“Hmm,” Despite himself, Gaster tried hard not to chuckle. “Because you are incapable of staying in bed without getting yourself into some form of disaster?”

It was Sans’ turn to snort now, the noise caught up in his throat as he coughed on the insufficient air some more.

For a moment, Gaster considered turning up the concentration of oxygen. But the child began to relax, rapid uneven breaths slowing to what could be considered a normal rhythm.

It was good progress, at the very least. “That should feel better. Does it?”

A weary nod in response proved him right.

“Good. I'll move you back to your bed now. Do _not_ move again unless I instruct you.” For emphasis, he added with a demanding glare, “Do you understand?”

Another faint nod.

" _Tell me_ you understand." He wasn't taking chances with his reckless behaviour this time round.

Sans shuddered, but managed to rasp his reply, "i-i do."

Confident he wasn’t going to dust with the next four seconds, the mask was removed from Sans' face. Soon, the innocent creature was hauled into the air, held closely against a shoulder while they moved.

By the time Sans realised he was back in bed, the first and only thing he did was turn onto his side, immediately sinking into the nest of soft pillows and blankets with the intent to do nothing but sleep.

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

“Any news?”

“My brother was in school yesterday. Found the kid. Shot him. Uhh. Haven’t seen him since.”

“Whoa. Did he die?”

“How should I know? Probably not. He just disappeared.”

Cylo glared at him incredulously. “Disappeared? Do you think I’m stupid?”

“I’m pretty sure he can teleport. Skeletons can do that, right?”

“Actually not all of them can,” he shrugged, “But apparently this one knows how…”

“That’s gonna get annoying though, isn’t it?” Rubin blew out his cheeks, “We get _this_ close to dealing the final blow and then _boom_ , he teleports to the other side of town!”

With a heavy exhale, Cylo pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “So, we drain his magic.”

Rubin snorted, “And how exactly do you propose we do that?” A skeleton with the ability to teleport was a powerful one indeed. “Draining magic enough to stop him from teleporting is going to take ages!”

“We have to get back in there somehow… my kid got suspended for the attack, so he can’t even get near him. There’s no way we’ll get into his dad’s lab…”

“Uh…” Rubin tried to come up with an incredibly creative plan, “Shoot him again?”

Cylo looked like he wanted to shoot his friend himself. “Really?” after a moment, he laughed with disbelief, “Because shooting him has worked well for us so far.”

“We can’t poison him either. Look, they know we’re trying to off them and they’re onto us. We can’t _do_ anything!”

“Then…” Cylo paused, running through his sudden thought curiously, drifting up to find Rubin’s face with an almost triumphant look in his eye, “Then we don’t shoot him. Or poison him, or anything secretive. We’ll get caught.”

“So… what are you suggesting?”

Cylo smirked, the malevolent, moustache -twirlingly evil type of smirk that was about to be drenched with sin. “Hear me out. Let’s kidnap him.”

Rubin blinked. “You what?” he snorted, erupting with laughter, “Did you forget everything I just said? He can teleport!”

“And did _you_ forget that he can’t if his magic is drained?” Cylo sneered, “Think about it. If we take him, his father will come looking for him and lead him right to us. Also, the other kid will probably be left alone. We could even send someone to get rid of it too. It’s perfect.”

“So you intend to drain his dad of magic too?” Rubin shook his head-- this was ridiculous. “Do you have any idea how powerful he is? The dude could rip up in half if he wanted to.”

Cylo froze, as if realising he completely forgot about that amongst the other phenomenal plan he had going. “Huh.” He pursed his lips. “Well, guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Rubin dragged a hand up his face in disbelief, “You don’t even have a plan for him, do you?”

Cylo shrugged half-heartedly.

“He’ll probably kill you. And me. Then what?”

“Man, have you always been this paranoid?” he rolled his eyes cynically, “Look, if he was gonna kill us he would’ve done it with the multiple chances he had already. There’s something stopping him.”

Rubin gritted his teeth, “Yeah! His kids! And once they’re gone, what’s stopping him?”

“ _Alternatively,”_ Cylo accentuated, “He could be left vulnerable for a few seconds from the shock, or panic. I dunno. But as long as we stay ahead of him, we’ll down them all.”

Unnerved eyes followed the demented leader as he pondered some more, debating the hole in his scheme. “Dad is part of the New Town Science committee.”

“So?”

“Maybe he could use the kid for something…” he snorted, “If it weren’t the fact the father was such a foul piece of shit the two of them could have worked together.”

“You know, you’re pretty fucked up in the head.”

“Thanks,” Cylo leered with tense sigh, “Get it from my mom.”

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

Waking up the next morning, he was welcomed to the sight of his father studying him with a clipboard in hand like some glorified zoo exhibition.

He didn’t even get the chance to ponder how he was going to make him go away before the man started speaking his myriad of questions.

“How are you feeling?” he inquired, not looking away from his clipboard.

Best keep it simple, maybe he’ll get bored faster. “fine.”

“Do you know what day it is?”

“wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Sans.”

“god, i dunno. tuesday?” Truth be told he had no idea, all the days had merged into one.

“Thursday. What is the last thing you remember?”

Sans groaned and threw his weary head back into the pillow, muffling his responses. “d’nno."

“I'm not here for entertainment,” the man groused, taking a step closer to the curled-up child, “I am checking for damage.”

“we don’t have brains.”

“No, but we have souls.”

Unable to come up with a further retort for that, Sans merely shrugged and mentally pleaded for the scientist to leave him alone.

“What's the matter?”

“n'thing.”

“Are you certain?”

Sans didn’t reply.

_go away._

“Answer me.”

“no. leave me alone.”

“I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me."

“im fine.”

“I don’t know where you get your dreadful lying skills from, but you certainly don’t get it from me.”

Sans gave a half-hearted grunt, shaking his head into a long stretch of mute silence.

Through some odd turn of events, he suddenly found himself whimpering. The sound turned into a gasp, then a full-fledged sob.

Almost expectantly, a hesitant arm found its way around his shoulder, their sleeves pulling him into his father's embrace while he sobbed like an _idiot._

“god, how are we going to get out of this alive?” he whispered, taking in a shuddery gasp. “i-i-i-i-“ he inhaled, then paused to catch his breath, “this is so messed up. everything is so messed up. i don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“and do what? nothing?” Sans wheezed again, focusing hard on getting the words out fluently and failing. “i can't do nothing or it won’t stop.”

“I'll think of something. I am good acquaintances with the King, I shall speak with him.”

“and get more people involved?” Sans breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. “no-one else can get involved.”

“As King, he will be able to remove him from this nation. If anything, he may be able to incarcerate him, and all his accomplices.”

Sans dipped his head further into his dad’s stomach. “yeah. i guess.”

“I will do this as soon as possible.” The hand on his shoulder tensed, “Do not leave this bed. Is that understood?”

“yeah, yeah, you said that already.”

“Good. Now, try to get some rest. Sleep for a while, perhaps.”

“ _yes, dad.”_

“And eat something when you awaken.”

“yes.”

“When I come home from work tomorrow, we can attempt to train in magic. How does that sound?”

“great.”

“Is there a need for the sarcasm?”

“i dunno, is there?”

“Right. Goodnight.”

“it’s 3 o’clock in the afternoon.”

“ _Goodnight_ , _Sans_.”

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath.

Then another. Then another.

_it’s ok. they’re not gonna find me._

Sans slowly clutched the phone in his hands; the same one that had been keeping him awake with threatening pings from an unknown number for the past three hours.

Despite the sun only just beginning to set, he was quite frankly completely and utterly exhausted, and for good reason too.

Separating himself from all the equipment just to play with papy had seriously drained his magic reserves.

… And apparently lost the ability to breathe too. That sure was fun.

Definitely wouldn’t repeat the experience again.

So next time… _and hopefully there won’t be a next time…_ those IV drips were following him everywhere.

_*PING!*_

_ohh no._

Dread swallowed his insides as he turned on the screen to read the new message.

“ _I know ur awake. Stop ignoring me.”_

_“Or im gonna come in.”_

Where was this guy? Was he even nearby? Or was it just an empty threat from the other side of town?

_alright, i’ll bite._

He responded, “ _at home.”_

The response came almost seconds later – the guy probably had nothing better to do than stare at his phone waiting for a reply.

_“I know, I see u in bed.”_

Sans swallowed, feeling as if he jinxed the situation whilst he uncomfortably shuffled himself under the duvet to hide from the guy. Wherever the skeleton hunting fanatic was, Sans hoped he could no longer see him.

Then, his phone began to vibrate, signalling that he was now being called.

Afraid of what would happen if he just ignored him, Sans silently pressed the illuminated green icon and waited for the voice to speak, hoping the volume wasn’t loud enough for his dad or brother to hear. Yet, his fingers were too afraid to move to check for himself.

“Cmon, come outside. Just wanna talk ‘bout something.”

_does he think i’m stupid?_

“im not just gonna come outside, im not thick.” Sans mumbled apprehensively into the phone, his voice muffled under the thick covers of his blanket. “go away.”

“And you must think I’m stupid if a simple ‘go away’ is gonna make me hang up the phone.”

“yeah, but i can.”

“If you hang up I’m just gonna come in.”

Taking a deep breath, Sans ignored his rebellious body’s trembling as he replied, “you can’t come in. i’ll make that big skull thing and it’ll kill you.”

There was a laugh that made his spine crawl, “Kid, the last time you tried to summon that _skull thing_ it fizzled out of existence and you had a seizure. Actually, yeah, do it, bahaha!”

“i can control it now!” he hissed, trying to keep his voice down, “just, just don’t come in!”

“Nuh-uh, I’m calling your bluff. I’m coming in.”

He heard the door rattle aggressively, and immediately Sans knew that this _guy_ was really here, in front of the house door.

“ok! ok!” he almost yelled, the thought of his home getting invaded and pap being found was terrifying. He took in a shaky breath when the rattling stopped. “i’ll come out. but no funny business, ok? don’t try to shoot me. or stab me. or poison me. just… you wanted to talk, so, talk.”

“Yep. We’ll talk.”

“ok…” he once more took in a quiet breath, hoping his anxiety was hidden over the phone, “i’m gonna hang up and come out. just don’t come in, ok?”

“Nope. You gotta stay on the phone.” Then his tone changed, “Wait, where’s your dad?” He seemed kind of… worried? Not for his dad, of course. More for himself. Well, good.

“dad is working. he’ll be home soon.” Maybe he could scare him with his dad’s position. “you know, dad is really powerful, like the most powerful in the entire world. if he finds you, he’ll kill you.”

A small chuckle, “Yeah kid, I’m counting on it.”

Well, that didn’t work.

“ok…” Sans shuffled out of his covers and sat upright in bed, narrowly avoiding looking out the window in fear of finding the human watching him. Then, he shrugged on his trusty blue hoodie, pulling the zip up and hauling himself to his feet. “i’ll go downstairs now. don’t come in.”

“I’m not gonna come in, just get out the freaking house already!”

“ok, ok! jeez…” Sans hurriedly stumbled out of his room and down the stairs, being sure to remain as quiet as physically possible as to not disturb Papyrus.

The absolute last thing he wanted was for his brother to come running out the house with him and into the arms of these people.

Cautiously stepping out the front door, Sans slipped the phone into his coat pocket and glanced around for the human.

There was only rain, and no soul in sight.

Damn. Should have known it was a—

A hand slammed around his mouth.

“ _Gotcha_.”

Screaming into the obstructing hand, Sans flailed his arms around like windmills for grip on something, _anything._

_Teleport. Back in house. Safe._

He called upon his magic. But it didn’t respond.

Sans barely had the chance to react to the pain in his leg, before the world went dark.

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

Something felt _wrong_ when he resurfaced from unwilling slumber, his mind a little hazy but providing a sense of dread that made him sick to his stomach.

What happened? Why did he feel so _off?_

“... is going too far?”

“... don't see why not.”

“Could be..... to us....”

Sans kept his eyes closed.

“...’ust a kid....’ould... father... ‘stead...”

Well, for better or worse, everyone here was at the mercy of a broken vinyl disc.

“... for now...”

He felt incredibly empty, that much was possible to ascertain.

But not the emotional type – no, he was always feeling _too much_ every waking hour of every waking day.

This was different. This felt weak. And fatigue. And numb.

“How much of it do you need?”

Oh, that sentence was legible.

“How long can I keep him for? That's the real question.”

That one too.

“The whole point of us doing this is to get rid of him. This was Cylo’s idea anyway. Take what you want, and we'll be off.”

“With him?”

“Yes.”

Ok, his hearing must be back.

“Damn.” A wholehearted chuckle, “Thought maybe I could keep him. Hahaha...”

“No, he's ours. We're doing you a favour.”

Right, he couldn't keep his curiosity away much longer.

Hesitantly and meticulously, Sans cracked open his eyes.

The bland grey metal bars of the ceiling providing no clues whatsoever of his whereabouts.

“Hey, you didn’t say he was awake.”

_oops._

“Didn't even realise,” a head hovered over him; it belonged to Rubin. “How much did you hear?”

“where am i?”

“Safe,” Rubin snorted, “If safe was a house in hell.”

“Hey, I'm not evil, I’m just doing my job!”

“Yeah, aren’t we all.”

Sans struggled to keep his eyes pried open. “you didn’t answer my question. where am i?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Rubin scoffed, glancing behind him before turning his attention back towards Sans again. “I ain't gonna tell you.”

“then, uhh,” Sans mumbled worriedly, gaining the sudden urge to move his arms but finding himself unable. “what's going on?”

“ _Ohh_ , you haven’t figured it out yet?” the stranger seemed excited.

“man, i’ve been awake twenty seconds, cut me some slack.”

“I’ll cut you something alright,” Rubin sneered, then gestured down at Sans’ sides, “Oh, and you'll find you can’t teleport, so don’t bother.”

That explains why his immense desire to be somewhere else wasn’t doing much to make the creepy room disappear. Usually his magic responded by now.

“yeah, figures.”

Rubin snarled at him, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves before twisting his head to the side, glaring at the other man in the room, who seemed to take that as his cue and waltzed over nonchalantly.

“Magic’s real interesting. You know that?”

Sans narrowed his eyes. “uh-huh.”

The tall man, _who come to think of it was probably the same height as his father,_ refused to take his steely eyes off him. How cute.

Sans didn't dare look away.

“I guess it’s the same as how us humans need blood, no?” The man pursed his lips as he continued studying him. “But magic gives you powers. That’s weird. Blood doesn’t give us power. If we had magic, would that give us power?”

Sans snorted. “no. it would kill you.”

“Oh yeah?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes and glancing over to Rubin as if to say _get a load of this guy._

“yeah. don’t be stupid. we’re entirely different species. magic must come to us from birth, you can’t just implant magic into someone. the human body would reject it.”

Both men had begun gazing at him with wide eyes now; somehow what he said had racked them with surprise…?

“Damn, and you’re how old?” Rubin scoffed, “Ten?”

“eight.”

“ _Eight?”_ he recoiled several steps backwards, _“_ You’re eight and you know this much?”

The taller man muttered under his breath, “Remember, his dad…”

A hint of realisation passed through Rubin’s eyes, “Oh, yeah. Right. Your dad.”

“yep.” His dad was beginning to teach him about the ways of the _science._ There was the hope he would grow up to be _just like him,_ but Sans wasn’t so sure…

“Speaking of your dad,” Rubin smirked, then hoisted a phone in the air— _Sans’_ phone. How did he get _that?_ “You wanna call him? Or should I?”

“call him?” Sans snorted—were they actually stupid?

Surely they were smart enough to comprehend that summoning _his father,_ of _all_ people, to witness the result of his son’s apparent kidnapping was _not_ going to end well, for either human?

With any luck they were really _really_ dumb and this whole thing would end at the poetical failure of their own stupidity.

“Yeah, I want to have a chat. Just like we had a chat.”

“i’m sure that will work amazingly well. go ahead.”

“You being smarmy with me, kid?” Rubin tauntingly tapped him on the skull, “You’re only still alive because my father wanted your magic. As soon as that’s done, you’re dead.”

Considering he was virtually the only feasible bait, Sans was pretty sure the man’s threat was far from the truth.

**....**

**....**

**....**

Pushing his carrots around a plate, Papyrus dug his fork into the unappetizing orange solid, scraping it around in circles before ultimately letting the silver clatter down onto the untouched dish.

It was hard to concentrate at home today. Even when trying to play blocks with his dad, he didn’t feel… right. His soul ached. Like someone was squeezing it.

And he didn’t want to touch his food. Even the thought of poking it with a knife made his fantastical stomach hurt. To make matters worse, Sans wasn’t even here having dinner with him. That cool fire person? Apparently Sans wanted to spend the night with _him._

But it was because he wanted to get away from all the mess, all the horrible worry from being at home alone. Plus, Sans said that the fire person gave him a job selling burgers. So Papyrus should be really happy that his brother was finally getting a nice distraction with someone that would keep him safe.

So why does he feel an impending sense of dread in the pit of his stomach and soul?

“You should really try to eat something, Papyrus,” his father suddenly spoke up from opposite the dauntingly empty table. “I understand that you’re upset with Sans not being here, but it is likely for the best that he is in a place that these savages will not predict.”

Papyrus snivelled, glancing rapidly between his food and his father. “I know… jus’… dun’ like it…”

“You don’t like the meal?”

“No! Not dat!” he hated the idea of making his father think that the meal he prepared was rubbish. It was very nice! …Probably.

His vigilant father persisted. “Then what is it?”

“I jus’…” Papyrus hugged himself, his soul wouldn’t stop _squeezing!_ “I fink this nice. I bet it nice! But… me no hungry…”

“I understand. But I cannot let you go to sleep on an empty stomach.”

“It ok. Really.” Papyrus forced a smile, “I eat orange circles tomorrow!”

“I'm sure you will.” The vacant expression didn’t falter. “Perhaps you would prefer something else?”

No! Why is daddy convinced that his cooking is bad? Papyrus didn’t want to eat anything at all, and that was the end of it.

“No fanks. Not hummgwy!”

“What if I made you a bowl of spaghetti?”

“I _NOT... HUMGWY!!!”_

Papyrus froze, suddenly finding himself unable to breathe with the horrible thing he just did.

_Daddy seems shocked too... I did bad..._

He waited to be shouted at response, much like the stern tellings off he sometimes gives in response to Sans' odd sarcastic remarks.

“Are you alright?”

_Oh. That wasn’t a big shout._

“I...” he swallowed at the sight of his father's unreadable expression. “I sorry...”

Gaster’s expression softened. “I know. I forgive you.”

“Mmm…” Papyrus closed in on himself. He shuddered. “It like… it sqqueeeeeshhh… my tummy go shhhhqueeeshh…”

“This is the first time you two are apart for the night. He is likely experiencing the same sensation.”

“I go to bed now.”

“If that’s what you want…”

“Yep.” He couldn’t find it in himself to force even a hint of happiness. Not even in the deepest depths of his squashed sad soul.

Flopping off the seat, Papyrus slowly waddled back to his room, deftly avoiding eye contact with his dad and dragging his feet as he walked.

**....**

**....**

**....**

Tucking himself into bed, he almost forgot – and was relieved – when his dad soon came walking in, an absentminded aura about him. Papyrus however was just happy that _someone_ was going to say goodnight to him.

Gaster seated himself on the side of his son's bed, contemplatively scanning a wooden bookcase for something to read.

But ultimately, he must have thought better of it, as he simply diverted his attention away from the books and towards Papyrus.

The child lay curled on his side, eying his father for an expression that might just give away what he was feeling. He kept his emotions very well hidden away behind a vacant mask.

With innocent eyes, Papyrus mumbled, “Umm... daddy?” he waited for the distracted man to focus on him properly before continuing. “Can you fix me?”

This time, surprise seemed to etch across his face. He definitely was interested now.

“Fix you? I'm afraid I don’t quite understand. Is something wrong?”

Papyrus hesitantly dragged a hand across his chest, frowning. “Squish.”

His father's eyes were teeming with confusion. “I really need to expand your vocabulary.”

“Squish!” he tried again, pouting in almost an act of desperation. “It squish. Like dis.”

Papyrus clapped his hands together, tightly squeezing them into connected fists as his father watched, trying to make the connection.

Gaster drew his mouth into a thin line. “That is called anxiety. I believe you are worried about your brother. Yes?”

“Mmmm...” Papyrus averted his gaze into his curled-up lap, squeezing himself tightly as the _squash_ feeling grew ever stronger. “I fink so...”

Small hands ran back up to his chest, scrunching the pyjama top into a fist as the ‘anxiety’ continued to ripple through him.

“I jus... I no like it...”

“I understand. It will get better with time.”

As the anxiety felt like it was slowly burrowing a hole in his soul, Papyrus winced when a particularly strong _squish_ came on, producing a small squeal at the sensation.

“How bad is it?” his father now asked, a hand moving towards the blanket and tugging it back. Concern was deftly hidden from his expression but echoed in his eyes, a small frown line appearing above his wrinkled brow.

“Squish...” seemed to be the only descriptive response Papyrus could give.

He watched as his father firmly set a hand in front of his ribs, eliciting a rather strong _tugging_ sensation before a glowing white orb appeared.

The scientist studied the soul for a moment, visibly relaxing slightly when he couldn’t seem to find anything wrong with it.

“See? Your soul is in excellent condition. What you are feeling right now is entirely emotional and perfectly normal.”

Slowly, and almost reluctantly, Papyrus nodded, patiently allowing his father to release the fragile orb back into his ribcage.

There _was_ something wrong, Papyrus was sure of it!

But he couldn’t seem to put the feeling into any words other than _'squish'_ , so he instead settled for the positive outcome of his dad’s watchful eye and shrugged it off.

“Okay...” Papyrus yanked the blanket back over himself again, huddling himself up all nice and cosy. He was more than ready to sleep off this horrible, gnawing feeling in his gut that was apparently _normal_.

Then again, his dad was never very good at emotions. Maybe he wasn’t very good at this either...


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matters of the soul are much more involved than simply the physical manifestation of being alive... Papyrus figures that out. 
> 
> The gang of human psychos have Sans, but can his family find him in time? Find out next time on dragon ball z

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while...I wanted to get it right. Anywho, this is quite a dramatic one and hopefully makes up for it :)
> 
> ily guys, thank you for reading as far as you have! :)

_There was something wrong, Papyrus was sure of it!_

_But he couldn’t seem to put the feeling into any words other than “squish”, so he instead settled for the positive outcome of his dad’s watchful eye and shrugged it off._

_“Okay...” Papyrus yanked the blanket back over himself again. He was more than ready to sleep off this horrible, gnawing feeling in his gut that was apparently normal._

_Then again, his dad was never very good at emotions. Maybe he wasn’t very good at this either…_

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

“Man, this is kinda sad.”

Rubin, Cylo and Cylo’s dad had all made a sorry excuse of a circle around the skeleton child. His docile behaviour of late was very much the opposite of what they had expected.

This little guy was apparently the offspring of the most powerful monster in the world, yet all he did was lie on his side and sleep.

He didn’t even seem to be bothered at all by the fact that the entirety of his magic reserves were being drained and bottled away. His soul must have been producing excessive amounts of magic to cover the loss, only for it to be drained away again.

Rubin shrugged at the dastardly sight. “It sure is. Maybe we’re lucky.”

“Lucky?” Cylo’s father murmured, his eyes still trained on the monster child.

“Yeah, I mean…” he weakly gestured towards the sleeping skeleton. “Look at him. He’s just taking it.”

“We could kill him off like this.” Cylo mumbled nonchalantly, causing all eyes to fall on him. “Turn the machine up to maximum. Say it was an accident.”

“That would be inhumane…” Rubin trailed off, frowning at his own conclusion and ignoring the stares he received. “I mean, he’s still just a kid. It’s the dad we’re after.”

“If we don’t do anything, this guy might grow up to be the spitting image and attitude of his father,” Cylo disregarded him, his voice rising slightly with frustration.

“But he’s just so…” Rubin winced. “…innocent? Right now? Like, have we got to do this?”

“Well, you boys had better make your mind up,” Cylo’s father proclaimed, indicating towards the machine, “If I keep this going for much longer, his soul is going to struggle to keep up.” Then he added, “Think of it like a human heart. Under these conditions, it would have stopped already.”

Cylo scoffed, “What’s the matter, pa? Thought you wanted this?”

“He’s interesting, that’s for sure.” The father of a psychopath shook his head, “And it was fun experimenting with him. But now… he’s stopped fighting. And moving. In fact, he hasn’t tried to hurt us even once… Perhaps this isn’t the right course of action. There’s someone else that deserves this.”

An intense anger boiled inside Cylo’s eyes—he’d spent so long setting this whole thing up, the plan to destroy the people that killed his mother—his father’s _wife,_ and now they were having second thoughts because, what, the kid doesn’t care?

For all he knew this entire submissive charade could be an act in _the hope_ that they’d feel sorry for him.

Well, screw them. They were never going to get a chance like this again and there was no way he was going to let them throw it all away because they felt some _remorse._

The only way to get at the murderous skeleton sonofabitch was to kill his children, just like the way that he killed Cylo’s mother.

Cold-hearted, and uncaring.

“Which one controls the extraction flow?” Cylo stepped over to the rather loud machine, that had now managed to bottle up seventeen bottles of pure magic and counting.

Cylo’s father pointed towards the third knob amongst six, “This one.” It was currently turned towards the number _four_ out of _ten._

He could totally turn it up to _ten_ right now and watch him slowly shut down and eventually dust.

But _that_ would be a mercy.

At least he wasn’t getting launched across the room and destroyed by a giant twenty-feet-tall skull and blasted to ash. The screaming still haunted his nightmares.

Never again.

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

Gaster woke up with a start. It was akin to awakening from a particularly intense nightmare, except instead of a nightmare it was the sound of morbid shrieking.

And additionally separating itself more from a nightmare, said shrieking faded out into a much quieter yet still audible sobbing seconds later.

But perhaps he really was still in a nightmare, because the silent house then erupted into a high-pitched screaming seconds later.

Oh, never mind. That was just Papyrus.

… Ah.

Before he could even process the movement, Gaster launched out of bed and fumbled around the dark room for the door. Yanking it open and storming into Papyrus’ bedroom, he could only wince as the shrill screaming grated his ears on impact.

It was too dark to see him, and it was too loud to listen.

“Papyrus? Papyrus!”

Still screaming.

“ _PAPYRUS!”_

The screaming abruptly stopped.

A few moments of silence.

… “Daddy?”

It was coming from the bed.

“Hey.” Gaster showed up at his bedside in two large strides, seating himself on the mattress and blindly searching for the source of the sobbing from body warmth alone. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“N-No,” Papyrus snivelled, leaning into his father stomach, somehow able to see in the dark better than him. “It squish!”

Ah, the troubled soul.

“Again?” He frowned, skilfully yet blindly probing his son and waiting for the anticipated tingling of soul. Eventually, he found it.

Watching the orb materialise in his hand and illuminate the room, Papyrus managed to splutter out some words.

“It-It-It- Big worse!” he whimpered, squeezing Gaster’s arm every couple of seconds, most likely when the pain peaked. “It-it-it-it-“

The close contact with his son enlightened him as to how warm he was – sweating profusely. The rapid rising and falling of his chest that he could feel against his own were producing silent, rapid little breaths, likely to conceal his hyperventilating around the protective father.

It didn't last long. “ _Ahhhooowww!!_ ”

Contradictorily, the soul seemed absolutely fine. It was beating much faster than the last time he checked a couple of hours ago, but there was no signs of grievance whatsoever.

So this inconsolable screaming made very little sense.

“ _Daddy!”_ he cried again, his voice filled with heartbreakingly large amounts of desperation and pleading for help this time.

Gaster tried to talk, to get him to explain what else he felt other than _squish_ and _big worse,_ but his own voice was overshadowed by the inconsolable sobbing right underneath him.

_“AAAAAAH!”_

“P—”

_“AAHHIEEAAHHH!!”_

“… Pap—”

“ _NNN…GHHHHAAA!!”_

_“PAPYRUS!”_

“AA—ah?”

“I know it hurts. Stop screaming.”

“But it huuuuuurrrr— _aaaHHH_!”

He winced, “Stop _screaming!_ Use your words!”

“It hurts!”

“Elaborate.”

The distressed toddler squeezed his eyes shut and hurled his fists into the blanket. “I _ca—ahhh-oww!”_

“Papyrus. Take a breath.”

“It—”

“—I know it hurts. But I can’t help you if you don’t give details.”

Gaster had a few ideas, but really didn’t even want to consider the possibility of what he thought it was.

“Hu-Hum…” Papyrus sniffled, shuddering as a shaky breath tore through his throat, “Hum…”

Gaster was glaring down at him expectantly, but Papyrus didn’t know how to put it into words.

“Umm…” Several more wheezes tore through him before he could utter another word. “M-My…” he pointed at his chest, most likely his soul.

“Your soul?”

“Uh-huh.” He sniffled again. “And it… it…” he struggled to come up with another word that wasn’t _hurts._ “Umm…”

“Hmm?”

Papyrus bit his lip, “It just… feel… like… umm…” he threw his hands in the air, “…Boom?” as soon as he uttered the word, his face shrivelled as the sensation clawed him apart again.

“Did it get worse?” He remembered the ‘squishing’ sensation Papyrus felt over dinner.

“Y-ye-yeah!” Papyrus whined, then pleaded with puppy-dog eyes, “Fix? Daddy please fix?”

“I can certainly try.” He held him slightly closer, opening up his own old, tired soul to emit some healing magic to the toddler. “This should help take the edge off.”

There was still the mystery of the cause however, and there was no point covering the symptoms up when the root cause was still wreaking havoc in the child's body.

That’s if the problem even _was_ in his body. Physically, he was completely fine. But cries like that were something that would haunt his ever-present nightmares.

“It jus’...” Papyrus began, once he had calmed down a bit. “Jus' feel like... like... somefing not right...”

“Oh?”

Finally, now we're getting somewhere.

Papyrus nodded, now slightly more confident with his words. “Umm... like... something... umm...” The toddler’s face froze, and Gaster had mere seconds to prepare himself before the abrupt screaming started again.

"........ _AAAAAIIHHHHHH!!”_

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“ _NNNGGGHAAAHHH!”_ Papyrus hammered his head into Gaster's torso, still howling while submerged in rough turtleneck.

“What’s _wrong?”_ He gawked helplessly at his son, who had smothered himself face-first into his stomach. “I can't help you if you just--"

“My soul explode!” Papyrus hollered, hyperventilating into the man's shirt, “It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt so bad!”

“Calm _down_ _!"_ he shushed, “It’s alright. Panicking will only make it worse.”

“I--" the sentence was cut short when the toddler suddenly heaved, gagging and coughing as if choking on something. “D...Da...”

Well, this definitely wasn’t anxiety anymore.

And he could only think of one other feasible possibility.

A few weeks ago when both he and Sans stumbled upon these psychopaths, Gaster had also become privy to the idea that the two brothers’ connection was stronger than just family ties.

One could say that these connections expanded to the _soul._

And if that were the case... then what Papyrus was experiencing was most likely an echo of his brother's soul calling for help.

But that was an incredibly unlikely scenario. As far as he was aware, Sans was currently residing in Grillby’s home for the night and there was no danger to him there.

...Unless...?

Glancing over to Papyrus’ sunken, tired eyes, Gaster hauled an arm around his stomach and pulled him back onto his lap. With one hand over the shaking child's stomach and one on his forehead, Gaster did his best to help curb the nausea whilst he continued looking for answers.

“Concentrate. What do you feel? Other than the pain. Do you feel anything else? Perhaps, something that does not feel like your own?”

Papyrus snivelled, nodding his head and stuttering, “Daddy, where Sas?”

Even though he had his suspicions, it still felt as if he been hit with a brick to the stomach at the utterance of that question.

Without offering a reply, Gaster shifted Papyrus from his lap and back onto the mattress, allowing himself to slide off the bed and stalk back to his room, ignoring the cries of _“daddy?!”_ as the door squealed shut.

His _phone._ Where was his _phone?_

Ah, tucked away in his lab coat no doubt.

Fumbling in his coat pocket for his phone, his hands came across a familiar shape, pulling out the sacred device and immediately dialling in the number he had familiarised himself with by memory.

It vibrated in his hand as it rang, but after two, three, four times of unsuccessful beeping, the device ultimately switched into voicemail.

With a tense yet quiet exhale, Gaster hung up before the voice message could even start and redialled. Once again, every second took too long to pass as the phone continued to vibrate, eventually leaving the phone unanswered.

_Damn it._

Perhaps Grillby was still awake…

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

“So, uh, how long’s it gonna take?”

Cylo and Friends watched onwards, the now maximised machine extracting _tanks_ full of magic from the unconscious child, potentially draining him dry.

Cylo’s father didn’t look away. “Ten minutes, give or take.”

The tank continued to thrum with the harrowing danger akin to the feeling of being awake five minutes before an alarm clock went off.

Rubin interjected his dark thoughts. “You got enough magic to work with?”

“More than enough,” the father confirmed with a nod, “Anything else from here on is a bonus.”

The three of them set their gaze upon the doomed child, the youngest of which couldn't help but feel a bit guilty.

“I don’t get it, it’s not doing anything,” Cylo glared at the somewhat sleeping kid that didn’t seem bothered at all by the 30 tanks of magic provided by his truly.

Not to mention the _brand spanking new,_ never seen before, abrasions of broken bones that had magically sprung up throughout his body. Except, on top of his already underdeveloped ribs there was now cracks residing in his legs and arms. The only area left untouched was his face.

Later on that night, Rubin, with increasingly gnawing concern and suspicion gathered the courage to approach the emotionally detached man alone.

“Hey, man. Umm...” he paused, reconsidering how he was going to approach this. “Have you seen all the injuries on his bones?”

“Yup.”

“Well...” he strained with a scoff, “Where did they come from?”

“Where do you think?” Cylo raised a brow, glancing past Rubin towards the skeleton on the table behind them. “He wouldn’t shut up so made him shut up.”

“You…” Rubin squinted, “You beat him up while he was tied down?”

“Yeah,” Cylo shrugged nonchalantly, “Wouldn’t stop making sarcastic remarks. It got annoying.”

“Is that necessary? We’re already killing him as it is. Literally.”

Cylo took a frustrated deep breath, “Look, Rubin, are you having second thoughts, or what?”

Rubin bit his cheek and quietly exhaled through his nose.

“Growing a conscience? I can’t have that on my team, Rubin. You know that.”

“Well, uh,” Rubin chuckled nervously, “Your _team_ consists of myself, you and your father. It’s hardly a team.”

“What about my lil bro?” Cylo curled his fingers into fists, “He helps too, remember? Or did you forget that you’re not the only person helping me with this?”

“No, of course I didn’t. Just think we’re being a bit too hasty, that’s all!”

Cylo pursed his lips. “Hmm. Just do as I say, and it’ll all work out fine. Understood?”

“Yeah…” he laughed quietly, “I _suppose_ …”

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

“stop. please. i don’t know what the hell you want but ill do it.”

Well, there went the last quarter of his magic reserves.

His captor’s father had managed to shut off his ability to produce magic, leaving his body to starve on what he currently had left.

“Too late now anyway,” Cylo muttered with a smug grin, “It looks like your Soul has lost the will to continue. No more producing magic. You're running on empty. Isn’t that a shame?”

Sans, with the limited strength he had left, was struggling to hide the agony from his face. “just stop, turn the machine off. please.”

“No more jokes, kid?” Cylo grabbed him firmly under the jaw, “Where's your sarcastic wit now?”

Through clenched teeth, Sans spluttered out once more. “stop.”

“Oh well. It doesn’t matter, you’re toast soon anyway.” The magical blue iris had long since disappeared from his sockets now, leaving only empty white ovals that wanted nothing more than to give up.

“would be nice if you'd at least explain why.”

“You already know why,” Cylo hissed, throwing him heavily back down onto the table. “Your dad's a murderer.”

“and that’s my problem because...?”

“You're bait,” he smirked, “And I'm really digging the whole cracking soul thing, you do that often?”

“go to hell.”

“Ah. You're preferring for it to crack faster. Expected.”

“i said go to hell.”

“Let me know what it feels like.”

**_...._ **

**_...._ **

The drab grey room was eerily silent, a testament to how well they had managed to shut Sans up, if he was even awake at all.

At this point the poor soul had fell unconscious, his mind using the last particles of magic left to keep him from dusting.

It wasn’t the most uplifting activity for a bystander to observe, but the creature sure had grit.

Cylo's father spoke up from an office chair parked opposite a desk, swivelling around to face Sans.

“He’s gone into shut down. There’s no going back now.”

Rubin seemed disheartened, a nervous aura that he couldn't shake in front of the psychotic family. “Well, if you think this is for the best, then I suppose it is.”

“Mmm...” Cylo hummed, turning his attention towards the canisters of magic. “I hope we have enough of that to use.”

“We have more than enough,” The Scientist spoke up, “Probably didn’t even need to drain him like this, but that was your plan all along, wasn't it?”

“And so what if it was? I got what I want, you get what you want.”

Rubin pursed his lips, “He ain’t dead yet.”

“That so?” Cylo snorted, keeping his eyes trained on the friend whilst he stalked backwards.

His hands brushed across the surface on his father’s desk, before fumbling upon the weapon of choice that he used to break several bones – a freakish cross between a bat and a hammer. “I’m sure all he needs is just a little bit of a…”

The weapon struck down hard upon the poor creature’s kneecap – a sickening sound of bones shattering resounded around the room.

A tension settled through the cold air.

Silence.

Before a thunderous **_crash_ **boomed and what seemed like an _earthquake_ shook the building.

The floor vibrating beneath their feet, all three humans froze, a sudden dread filling their stomachs.

Rubin swallowed. “Damn. You hit him that hard, huh?”

Time had crawled to a halt. Several painfully slow seconds dragged on before the other two could find themselves able to speak.

“Yeah…” Cylo didn’t sound too convinced, “It’s just his magic settling, there’s no need to freak out.”

The scientist side-eyed him, a brief warning before shattering his son’s illusion of safety. “That isn’t how magic works.”

Rubin grit his teeth anxiously, “You… you shattered his leg! That sound was just… was just his magic disappearing! Right?”

Considering almost a minute had passed without incident, the three men began to relax again. Maybe it really was a newfound magic thing that no-one had heard of.

Until a sound increasingly growing in volume and pitch began to rumble the door.

All heads turned towards the shaking metal, having only moments to process the blue light illuminating through the gaps before suddenly, the hinges were ripped off the wall.

**_BANG!  
_ **

An ear-splitting _explosion_ hurled the now shattered metal into the air, surrounded with fume and dust and just a _tad of blue_ as the sound ricochet throughout the chamber.

It was impossible to tell what on _earth_ was on the other side of the door that had caused such a thunderclap of noise, but something told them that it wasn’t the reasonably sized bat that Cylo had just used.

Cowering up from the floor, the humans soon began to connect the dots as the figure of a man and a familiar blaster, ten times larger than Sans' own, appeared as a silhouette in the smoke clouds.

Cylo ground his jaw.

“Oh no.”

He was given hardly a second to react as an enormous beam of bright blue headed his general direction, incinerating the desk behind him and leaving a gaping hole in the wall.

It was Rubin's turn to realise now.

“Oh. He’s here. That was quick.”

The silhouette didn’t move. Only speaking a sentence in a tone that only a fool would refuse. “Where is he?”

Granted, he caused all the smoke, it was no wonder he couldn’t find his son.

The sound of a blaster firing up again terrified their likely irreparably damaged ears.

“I will not ask again. Where is he?”

“Behind you,” the human scientist muttered dejectedly, “On the table.”

This time, the silhouette spun around. The blaster didn’t erupt, but instead remained hovering above them all, _menacingly._ The dust had began to settle now, the angry shadow’s silhouette morphing into the shape of an irate skeleton.

Out the corner of his eye, Rubin spied Cylo slowly clawing himself up from the floor, and heading over to the now shattered desk.

Only able to watch as the determined sociopath retrieved his special weapon of choice, Rubin couldn’t help but think to himself, ‘ _Is this guy for real? Is he really this stupid…?’_

Before the idiot could even lift the hammer far enough over his head, Rubin barely blinked when he watched his friend suddenly launch across the room, slamming hard into a wall. The barely audible cracks were certainly something bad that he knew the man probably deserved.

The overpowered, enraged skeleton didn’t seem to find Rubin or Cylo’s father an immediate threat, as he immediately high-tailed it over to his son, of whom was only just about alive on the metal table that he was destined to die on.

If you listened closely, you could just about make out the foreign language that would be indecipherable to any other but his sons.

_“What have they done to you?”_

The language abruptly shifted back into Standard, the man not willing to tear his eyes away from his son as he spoke.

“What did you do?”

Cylo, still surprisingly conscious, snorted and returned his bitter response, “He's as good as dead, don’t bother.”

“I can see that,” his voice wasn’t as steady as he'd have liked it to be, “He is still alive however, so for what purpose?”

Cylo suppressed a slight shudder, a covert side-glance inciting awareness of his father darting out the door.

“Your glasses not workin' or what?” he gestured down at the bright blue tanks of magic. “We needed magic, so we took it.” There was a hint of pride to his almost.... nervous voice.

At the mention of said glasses, Gaster readjusted them. “How much did you take?”

“Take a look yourself.” Forcing himself to stand, this time Cylo ensured he was a reasonable distance away from the man that could _apparently_ cause an earthquake without lifting a finger. “All of it, dude.”

To their surprise, something flickered in the man's vacant eyes, and it wasn’t anger. More like... panic?

The creature turned back around to his unconscious son, rather frantically rubbing his knuckles into the boy's sternum.

“Sans. Are you awake? Can you hear me?”

“Man, just back the hell up before I put a bullet in his head.”

A distorted humming began to fire up behind them.

Rubin quickly glanced around to find the blaster from earlier was recharging. “Uh…”

“I said back up!”

Bitterness crept into the older skeleton’s face. “I could say the same.”

“You don’t scare me. I’ve killed before, I’ll do it again. Anything to get rid of you scu—” the rest of his sentence was lost to the sound of his own screaming.

It was just then Rubin’s mind processed the overhead ‘laser beam’ was in fact the blaster setting off, directly onto Cylo.

It wasn’t long before the screaming stopped, the remains of the disturbing attack leaving only a widespread trail of ash and the smell of cigarette smoke in its wake.

Rubin could only watch in stunned silence as the man quickly turned back towards his son, paying no attention whatsoever to the human he just murdered in cold blood.

A curious and inexplicable uneasiness crushed him – Why was _he_ still alive?

Could it be that he recognised Cylo from the first time they met in the tavern?

…When he tried to poison the kid with alcohol…?

His rapid circulating thoughts were interrupted when there was a faint flash of blue coming from the man.

Which means he must be about to teleport.

Which means—

“Wait—!” Rubin found himself shouting, the situation appealing to his better nature.

The blue light faded.

“What.”

“Um…” Truth be told, he wasn’t actually _expecting_ him to stop. “You can’t teleport.”

He heard the man grumble something under his breath, before the vivid blue flashed again.

“Just—stop! For a second. Just listen to what I have to say.”

Once again, the color faded out. A hint of irritation in his voice.

“Then say it.”

Screw it. “Uh—C-Cylo’s dad, he’s a scientist.”

“As am I.”

“Yeah,” Rubin chuckled despite himself, “I-I know. Which is why I’m surprised you don’t understand.” He took a deep breath, keeping his eye on the unmoving skeleton for any sudden attacks. “So, he drained all of his magic. Like, every last bit of it. The containers are h-here.”

Realising he just essentially invited the man to look towards him, Rubin took several steps back. The other man slowly turned around, eying the containers of bright blue filled to the brim with magic.

“Cylo was gonna kill him. Like, he was just about to before you came along. But it took too long so, he got his dad to give him this… drug, thing.” Rubin rapidly explained like his life depended on it. “He said it would stop him producing magic. So when he hit him, it wouldn’t heal.”

He watched the man’s expression tighten.

“Ah.”

Rubin forced himself to smile. “Y-Yeah. Heh. So, if you teleport… he might not make it to the other side.”

“I see.”

“I mean, I don’t have any say around here,” Rubin bit his lip, unable to do much about his shaking hands but decided it was best if the man thought he feared him. “I couldn’t do anything.”

“Then why were you involved?” the skeleton ground his jaw. “I specifically remember you being the one to injure my youngest.”

Oh… crap. He actually remembered that? It was only a cookie…

…Of course he does.

“He lured me in, man,” Rubin took another few steps back, practically colliding with a wall, “I believed his crap, I looked up to him, you know, I wanted to believe him…”

“And now that you have watched me incinerate him, you’ve had a very convenient change of heart?”

If looks could kill…

Rubin could only swallow _hard_ with a glassy stare of deprecating horror. “I’m—I don’t—”

Oh dear...

“…Uh, you need to get him to a hospital or something.”

The man pursed his mouth, thoughtfully turning back around towards the injured child. “Evidently.”

“If you can’t teleport then how are you gonna get him out?”

The solution, apparently, was already set-in stone, as the man simply scooped the child up into the air and over his shoulder, making a hasty advance towards the door.

Rubin followed after him, struggling to keep up with the large strides. “You’re just gonna _walk?”_

Not to mention it was four o'clock in the morning and pitch-black outside.

Naturally, there was no response. Gaster only continued to walk.

**.....**

**.....**

It was bitterly cold out, strong gales blowing harshly between trees and almost sending the tall monster toppling backwards, if it wasn’t for his power strides.

He could feel Sans’ soul essence slipping away, the bond growing weaker and weaker, which only fuelled his walking even more.

“It's freezing, dude! Why are we walking? Just call for help!” Rubin, too, was also here.

Unfortunately.

Perhaps it would have been quicker and more satisfying to end his miserable existence the same way he did his friend.

Alas; he had critical knowledge of what happened to his son. His value ended there.

“Go home then.”

“Well, no,” Rubin sneered from behind, the white streetlamps the only source of light from the darkness, “The second I turn my back you're gonna kill me.”

“Paranoid now, are we?”

He could virtually feel the human glaring a hole into his back. “Well can you blame me?” 

Choosing to ignore that particular rhetorical statement, Gaster continued his stride, almost failing to notice the slight movement in his arms.

Sans’ moan was muffled by the fabric of his father's coat.

Startled eyes glanced down at the child whilst he continued to walk, a hint of worry etching across his hollow, vacant features.

“You shouldn’t be awake,” he murmured, quiet enough so that Rubin couldn’t overhear. “We're almost there, it’s alright now.”

He felt Sans squirm over his shoulder, attempting to reposition himself but freezing at the sudden pain.

Sans groaned again. “oh _god_. what...?”

“Don't move,” Gaster picked up the pace, aware of his son's growing restlessness.

“my leg,” Sans spluttered, groaning once more into his shoulder, “ohhh god, it hurts like hell.”

“I'm not surprised. Go back to sleep.”

How was he conscious? Surely with such scarce amounts of magic left, his system would remain dormant to save it?

Or perhaps the presence of his father gave him the idea that he was safe, and thus safe to awaken.

Was it possible for his soul to be that stupid...?

... Most likely.

“where the hell am i?” Sans groused, wriggling in his grasp again, “the hell are we doing? what happened?”

“It's best if you focus on something else right now,” Gaster offered, quite certain that the raw memory of being almost beaten to death was one that he shouldn’t be dwelling on at this moment. “Focus on saving your magic reserves, if you can't go back to sleep.”

Sans had other plans. Like an annoyed cat that didn't want to be picked up, he wrestled his way out of his father's arms and almost collided with the floor, if it wasn’t for the other man's fast reflexes.

His bad leg hit the concrete ground though, and he _screamed._

“ _You stupid child!”_ Gaster hauled him over his shoulder again, “What part of _don't move_ do you not understand?”

This time, by a curious irony of fate, blue magic would come in use.

How lucky that he happened to have a hefty supply of it.

“why’s it so dark?”

Well, it was certainly going to be a while before dawn broke.

“Because it’s four o’clock in the morning.”

“but it’s dark.”

“…Yes. Because it’s four o’clock in the morning.”

“no, i can’t…”

“Hmm?”

“it’s all dark i can’t see anything.”

An uneasiness caught his throat. “What about the street lamps?”

Those were scattered around aplenty.

“what streetlamps? what are you talking about?”

Gaster growled under his breath. “You. Human,” he hissed, not slowing down his stride, “What drug did you give him?”

Rubin blanched. “It wasn’t me, it was the other guy! The scientist! I have no idea what any of it is!”

“Anything affecting his vision?”

“No? I don’t think so…?” Rubin sounded exasperated, “What would be the point of that?”

“Then...” There was no other choice.

The dark street lit up in a dazzling flash of cyan blue.

Rubin’s eyes widened, “Wait! **Stop-** **!”**


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the kidnapping. The skeletons fight to keep Sans alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when this was gonna be 5 chapters? Hahaha.... nope.

_Gaster growled under his breath. “You. Human,” he hissed, not slowing down his stride, “What drug did you give him?”_

_Rubin blanched. “It wasn’t me, it was the other guy! The scientist! I have no idea what any of it is!”_

_“Anything affecting his vision?”_

_“No? I don’t think so…?” Rubin sounded exasperated, “What would be the point of that?”_

_“Then...” There was no other choice._

_The dark street lit up in a dazzling flash of cyan blue._

_Rubin’s eyes widened, “Wait! Sto--!”_

**_.... .... .... .... .... ...._ **

Still alive.

No dusting yet.

The human was bluffing.

Why had he even believed him?

A swarm of people greet him as he materialised into his lab. Monsters dispersed around the child in his arms, taking him away as they left the boss monster to gather his bearings.

The technician holding him was the centre of attention as he settled the small skeleton onto the table.

Immersed in the events of the prior minutes, Gaster, despite everything, found himself unable to do anything else but sit down.

The other monster shuddered and announced with a deprecating tone of apology, “Okay, he’s not breathing.”

When there wasn’t a reply, he spun around and watched the other man expectantly, surprised at his silent, vacant expression upon the office chair.

“What do we do?” he raised his voice as to get his attention. It didn’t seem to cut through whatever haze he was in, and the lack of direction was really not helping the urgency of the situation.

“Hey, Gaster.” He stepped towards him, “He’s not breathing, what do we do?”

The other monsters stood behind the one in charge, half of them expectantly waiting for an answer while the other half were occupied attaching a variety of different monitors.

A muscle in Gaster's jaw twitched. “There isn’t enough energy to sustain his vitals.” He blinked slowly. “He needs magic.”

The reply was instant, “What type of magic? What kind?” the fox-like creature urged, “You’re the only one that knows!”

The three of them were the only skeletons in existence.

Gaster’s hands squeezed into fists. “Any universal one will do.”

“And what the hell happened to his leg?”

“I don’t know.”

The fox monster was perplexed, “You don’t…know?” It was very unlike him. There was always at least some manner of theory, however unorthodox it may be.

“I found him in that condition.”

“Well, obviously I didn’t think you did that to him yourself—“

“—Tasmand, he’s waking up.”

The fox rotated on his heel, “What? Already?”

“get off me.”

“I gave him a shot of mana and he just came round—”

“ _get off me.”_ Sans struggled to get off the table everyone was swamping him around.

Tasmand approached his side and pushed him back down. “Hey, it’s alright. You’re gonna be ok.”

“i said get off me.”

A whiskered cat stood on the opposite side. “We’re trying to help you, it’s okay—”

_“get off…”_

“Uh, Gaster, can you—”

_“get off me…”_

From his seat, Gaster could see his child flailing as if the crowd of monsters were the same humans he failed to escape from.

Renewed with a new sense of fatherly instincts, he made his way over. “Have you put a central line in?”

“Yeah, that was the first thing we did when you—”

“Then sedate him.”

Tasmand blinked, jaw slack. “Uhh…”

Would that even work with what he’d just been through?

“He shouldn’t be awake anyway.”

“…Okay.”

Sans moaned, “my leg…” the aforementioned appendage lethargically rolled around the black padded table. Previously having been used for willing participants of experiments, having his son on that same table dying was something Gaster had never wanted nor willed to see in the many hundreds of years of his life.

The cat creature had his hand in hers. “I know, I know, we’re gonna sort it out, okay?”

“what did you do?” Half-lidded eyes sluggishly rolled around his sockets, unseeing and quite literally blind. “whyzzit hurts…?” he coughed, “…m’dizzy…”

Luckily for him, the lab assistants were sympathetically patient and continued attempting to get through to the confused skeleton.

  
“It’s quite badly injured but we’re gonna fix it up just like new, alright?”

“no...” Mortified eyes were trained on the orange-furred cat assistant that was _trying_ to inject some medicine into his arm. “don't touch me. don't touch me.”

Whilst the monster ignored him and instead carried out his instructions, Sans jolted his arm away as to disrupt the process.

“Hey, stay still.”

“don't touch me,” Sans repeated to the now wide-eyed cat creature. “don't touch me. you understand? if... if you touch me, i'll kill you. ok?”

The cat peered over to his colleague for support, a jarred look on her face at the child's uncharacteristically violent reaction.

“His stats are dropping—"

Gaster interrupted before things could spiral. “Hey, Sans. Look at me. I'm right here. Alright?”

“oh...” Sans seemed pleasantly surprised and blinked owlishly, his eyes darting between his father and the assistant currently leaning over him. The scientist subtly gestured for the device from the assistant with his fingers.

“dad? you gotta get me out of here, they’re gonna kill us and they messed up my leg. also i can’t see.”

“No, it’s alright now. You're safe.” His handiwork with the syringe went unnoticed under the table. The situation with his eyes was a problem for another day. “These are good people. You're _safe_ now. Do you understand?”

“but they gon' kill us...” Sans hiccupped, words slurring on his lips as the medicine took hold.

“No-one is going to hurt you.” A hesitant hand sat on his shoulder blade. “Go to sleep. It’s alright.”

“sleep...” Sans mumbled, as if discovering a new word, “sleep...”

“Yes.”

“…but i can’t…”

Gaster could only offer a long-suffering sigh. “And why not?”

“cause if i sleep then… they can do stuff… without me knowing…”

A brow furrowed into his ever-scowling face. “Like what?”

“well… they… just… waiting for me to… go to sleep… so they can call my dad…”

“Ah.” Gaster pursed his mouth into a thin line. Of course they had threatened his family too.

“so… can’t go to sleep… y’know?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m quite sure your father can take care of himself.”

Sans blinked once, twice, three times, as if the information were travelling to his brain tortoise-speed. “maybe.”

  
A high-pitched grunt pierced the air in perfect harmony with a monotonous alarm that abruptly began to resound around the room. “im gonna take a nap.”

The fox creature from earlier spoke up again like a bad penny, flashing red lights against black monitors screaming the number zero. “Aaand he’s gone again.”

“Damn.” And there he was thinking the sedative was working.

Gaster watched the various monitors with dread as the statistics tumbled down to naught, alerting the scientists to the fact the feeble child was about to dust. Tasmand wasted not a moment, setting off immediately to slam a magic-filled syringe directly into his soul.

A particularly worried cat had a hand on the skeleton's broken ankle. “His leg is probably leaking the magic we give him back out again twice as fast.”

“We need to repair it, right _now_ ,” Gaster alerted them, swiping his glasses from the desk onto his face.

Tasmand splayed an irritated hand in the general direction of Sans' crumbled leg. “How? Look at it! Honestly, it’s in pieces!”

The lead scientist adjusted said glasses onto the rim of his nose as he instructed, “Bone can be grafted from somewhere else, preferably his hip or other leg.”

With this new information, Tasmand peeked nervously at the streams of magic jetting out of the skeleton’s knee. “Movement is what is causing the leakage, his right leg needs to be secured.”

“And how do you propose we do that with the state he’s in?”

“Yeah, the sedative isn’t working," the cat assistant piped up from opposite Tasmand.

Gaster began to pace, “Most likely his lack of magic is causing the medication to go unprocessed.”

“There must be a way to get him some sort of relief, surely? Can't you think of anything?” the cat assistant refrained from shouting, having Sans' knee and ankle in a tight grasp.

“I could try injecting the medication directly into his soul, although I'm uncertain with what would happen in his condition.”

“Worth a shot, though. I'll restrain his leg into a splint while you do that.”

“Excellent.”

A swarm of people circled around the table, exchanging demands and tools between each other with futile dreams of saving the lead scientist’s son.

The ginger cat glanced aside towards the scientist’s narrowly void of panic’s face, and mumbled at a volume he could just about hear. “We got this. It’s gonna be ok.”

The look Gaster gave her in return didn’t share the same confidence.

Before long, they were soon greeted with the arrival of the skeleton’s younger brother. Whether it was from sheer soul power or hearing the commotion in the lab, Papyrus had once again managed to find himself in the same room as his brother when he needed him the most.

The toddler was met with loud scary alarms and shouting monsters, a pulsing shrill beeping of imminent doom that made his stomach twist and turn with anxiety.

From a distance he observed nervously as drops of blue pooled onto a puddle on the floor, which was probably what everyone was shouting about.

And so, they continued to shout amongst each other:

“I’m getting absolutely zero response from his soul, there’s no magic. The soul is there but there’s no magic.”

“Give him another shot of mana, we can try to jump-start it.”

“Stop messing with his leg and help us stabilize him!”

Papyrus grabbed his stomach, smacking a palm onto his mouth. “Daddy? Was wrong wid Sas?”

“All the mana you give him is leaking out again because of his leg! I need to stabilise it!”

Papyrus waddled up, eyes welling with tears, “Sas?!”

“Can someone get that child out of here!?”

“Sas!!” Distressed, Papyrus flapped his arms up and down, nervous energy coursing through him.

The horrible view of his brother was soon superseded by the figure of his dad now heading his direction, clearly trying and failing to put on a calm facade, yet emotions betrayed him.

Gaster stepped into his line of sight, “Papyrus, you need to leave immediately. I'm sorry, but we can't have distractions.”

Papyrus’ bottom lipped quivered, his needy gaze shifting between the man in front of him and his brother far behind. “But I wanna see Sas noooow!!!”

“I know, but he isn’t feeling very well right now. He can’t play games with you.”

“Don’t wanna play game!” Papyrus stomped his foot, “I wanna see _Saaaaass!!”_

Gaster sighed wearily. “Why don't you go upstairs and play with your puzzles?”

“I play with Sas?” the child's eyes were pleading yet hopeful.

It was all for nothing, though. “I’m sorry, but no. He will be staying here for a while.”

An agitated holler from the cat monster from a distance brought him back to his current predicament. “Gaster, we need you over here to—”

“I know,” he interrupted, staring down meaningfully at Papyrus, “ _Go.”_

Regardless of how much he begged and cried, no-one would let Papyrus anywhere near Sans, which probably meant things were bad...

He took a few steps back, watching harrowingly as his father stormed off to join the others. His view of the pantomime was eventually obstructed by the blockade of people.

“Something’s not adding up. Why isn’t this working?”

“Give him another shot of mana, straight into his soul.”

“Another one? He’s already had three in the past five minutes…”

“Yes, another one. And push another 30ml of Aclofranil into his leg.”

Papyrus could do nothing else but watch on in silence, hoping that they would forget he was there and let him continue watching from the back of the room.

Another unbearably long minute passed, and the numbers on the monitors were still flashing red.

Papyrus knew it was bad, and mentally he ached and pleaded for the numbers to climb from the dreaded flickering between zero and 0.2, but not even his incredible mental prowess seemed to do anything.

“There isn’t any difference… it’s like the meds aren’t even going in. What do we do?”

The man of whom Papyrus’ eyes were trained on produced a quiet frustrated growl, overwhelmed with both fear and irritation that nothing they did had any effect on his son.

Finally, he spoke. “I don’t know. This doesn’t make any sense. He should be improving by now.”

Papyrus swallowed hard.

A heavy sigh. “Alright, perhaps he cannot process it in this form. Let's see if mana in its gaseous form will be easier for him.”

The others seemed to concur with his idea as they got to work with an almost optimistic stride; hopefully this was the ‘ground-breaking resolution’ they had been waiting for.

Papyrus chewed on his thumb as he watched them work on his brother, a muffled hissing sound working its way through the mask currently being firmly smothered onto Sans' slack face.

The results were almost instantaneous; the shrill, wildly erratic beeping soon settled into a steadier pace.

“Oh, finally. _Now_ it’s doing something.”

“Hmm.”

Why was his dad sounding so unsure? Sans was getting better, right?

0.7 was better than 0.1, right?

The cat assistant had the same idea. She tilted her head, “Is something wrong?”

“Perhaps,” Gaster frowned, “Before we teleported here, the human advised me that he had given Sans a drug that stops the production of magic.”

“Oh.” The assistant blinked at him. “You could’ve led with that ten minutes ago.”

With his lethargic eyes closed, Gaster pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was not rational, the thought only just occurred to me. I apologise.”

Assistant cat sighed, “Well, we know now…” she scratched behind her ginger ears, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken and the room in an awkward silence.

Papyrus took the opportunity to speak up, hesitantly taking the thumb out of his mouth at the thought of being shooed out of the room again.

“Sas ok now?” his tone was almost a whisper, and for a moment he wondered if anyone had heard him. Slowly but surely, his father turned his attention towards Papyrus and nodded tentatively.

Gaster glanced between his youngest son and the one currently unconscious on the table. “He is… stable.” The word was pronounced with great uncertainty.

“And…” Papyrus pouted – what did that word mean? “Dat mean he ok?”

“Yes.” It was an awful lie that flickered behind his vacant gaze. “For now.”

_For now…_ well, that wasn’t as good as ‘yes he is going to be absolutely fine and nothing bad will ever happen to him again’, but Papyrus would take what he could get.

Nervous for the response, Papyrus curled his fingers when he asked, “Can… Can I see him…?”

The three other monsters in the room exchanged glances between each other, before ultimately Gaster’s gaze fell upon his inquisitive son. “Five minutes. Then you really have to leave.”

Pleasantly surprised, Papyrus nodded and sprinted over to his brother with a spring in his step, aware of how fragile he was, and that one wrong move could make him sick again.

Resting a palm over Sans’ shoulder, Papyrus’ bottom lip wobbled as he began to speak to him. “Sas?” he whispered, knowing his brother was probably in a very deep sleep because of all the medicine they gave him. “Luff you very much Sas… sorry you’re not awake, I was gonna help you wid da puzzle, I can do it even faster now! But you gotta get better, cos I wanna show you…”

Papyrus snivelled, finding his hidden emotions coming out much faster than he wanted it to. “I jus’ wan’ you to be okay Sas…please don’t go away…”

He didn’t notice his body was shaking until he felt a hand on his own shoulder, and a very quiet, almost inaudible mutter from his native language telling him to calm down.

Papyrus sniffed again, wiping his wet eyes with his sleeve and whispering, “Sorry…”

The hand on his shoulder tightened, a silent comfort that he knew was his father’s way of being supportive.

“We need to fix his leg now,” a softly-spoken feminine voice from behind him said, “I know you care about him very much, but you can’t be in here for that, okay?”

Papyrus’ eyes welled up again; he wanted to be there with his brother through everything! “Why not??”

The fox and cat exchanged looks, before the former did the talking, “Because we don’t want you to see anything that might scare you.”

Now _his_ soul was racing.

“What you mean? I not scared of any fing! I weally brave!”

The cat smiled uneasily, “I know—we all know you’re really brave, Papyrus. But you might find this a little too much to look at.”

“Then I look away! I look at da wall!”

“But you can still _hear it,”_ the fox emphasized, which caused some stern glares from the father, “Even hearing it might be too scary.”

“Hear what??” Papyrus shrunk back from them, sniffling and stealing glances at his brother. Were they going to hurt him??

Their father finally spoke. “That’s enough, Tasmand, step back. Papyrus, you need to leave now. I’ll come and you get when we’re done. You can spend as much time as you want with him then.”

Well, that sounded a little bit better. If he left the room for a while and came back later he could spend hours and hours with Sans and he’ll never have to leave him ever again.

“Okay…”

**_.... .... .... .... .... ...._ **

Papyrus sat in the adjacent room, twiddling with his fingers whilst hugging his anxious tummy tightly.

They were right, the noises _were_ scary. A very small part of him was glad he wasn’t in there to see.

The muffled sound of metal whining through the air echoed into the next room. Every now and then Papyrus jumped at the noise grinding into what he could only unfortunately assume was bone.

Staring down at himself didn’t help. He shrunk his arms into his sleeves.

But deep-rooted curiosity was gnawing at the back of his mind. There was a small window built onto the grey door that led into the room, where everyone currently was. Where his _brother_ was...

Papyrus looked behind him, and down the nearest corridor. No-one was coming. It was very late at night anyway.

He cautiously stood up, creeping his way towards the door and taking a very sneaky peek inside...

And immediately regretted it.

Yet, he struggled to look away.

His brother was no longer swaddled with warm blankets, but was instead lying bare on the table. A very big light was shining all over him, blending in with the colour of lab coats that circled him.

But the problem wasn’t that there was no blankets, it was the fact that the loud scary noises was coming from something his dad was doing, leaning over his brother with something in his hand and working into his poorly leg with the help of his assistants.

Once in a while the harsh grinding noise stopped, leaving only the sound of a continuous low hum. Although that was soon dominated by the whirring noise starting up again.

The bad leg was glowing blue at least, which meant there was some mana flowing freely through it. So whatever they were doing, it looked scary, but it worked.

Besides, it was his dad doing all the scary stuff. And Papyrus trusted him very much.

It was really weird seeing him all dressed up in his lab outfit, usually he walked around with just a coat and turtleneck. But this time he was fully equipped; lab coat, mask and gloves, and it was the first time Papyrus saw him in action like this.

And he wasn’t sure whether to feel reassured or frightened.

Papyrus had become rather lost in the unpleasant sights and sounds when his dad’s sharp eye suddenly caught him looking through the window.

With a small gasp, he knew he was in trouble when the man’s eyes expressed inaudible words to his colleagues followed by all the loud noises immediately stopping. All the monsters in the room turned around the look at the window and the child peeping through. Papyrus produced a strangled noise from the back of his throat and took several guilty steps backwards.

He ran from the door, out the double doors of the lab and into the closed empty space of the elevator.

All the things he saw them to do his brother… it looked so serious and scary. And he was all alone without him. He must’ve been so scared without his little brother there to help him…

Quietly whimpering, Papyrus cornered himself to the back of the elevator, his coat clanking as he slid down the wall, hugging himself tightly to hide away from the world. He had no idea how to get the elevator to move, so he decided he would stay here until someone else tried to use it.

The distraught toddler remained sitting curled up on the floor of the strangely quiet elevator for who-knows how long, clutching the red scarf that was tightly wrapped around his neck.

Surprisingly, no-one had been trying to summon or get into the metal box. It soon came to his attention however that everyone was probably in that room with Sans.

Eventually though, he heard footsteps.

Papyrus tensed up from his curled position, gripping his scarf even tighter with steepled fingers and readied himself for being shooed away.

He couldn’t help but jump when the doors opened, his fingers burrowing so deep into his cloth that they were beginning to dig into the palms of his hands.

Two tall black boots came into view. They paused suddenly, clearly surprised the sight in front of them, but Papyrus didn’t want to bother looking up. If he made eye contact with anyone he might just cry. And no one could see him cry—he had to be strong.

There was a heavy drawn-out sigh, one of exasperation and seemingly riddled with stress. One boot stepped forward, the cold ground vibrating at the heavy step. Then, an arm leant over to him press a button. The next thing they knew the doors were closing.

Papyrus squeezed his eyes shut.

Maybe if he sat here with his eyes shut and face on the cold floor long enough, the intruder wouldn’t notice him there. Or maybe he was so insignificant and stupid and small that the person wouldn’t even care.

What he didn’t expect however was for his shaky hand to be taken. And unless Sans had made a miraculous recovery, there was only one other person with hands that felt like that.

“Hey. Papyrus.”

“Mmm?” he refused to open his eyes and face the light of day. The grip on his hand tightened.

“Are you alright?”

“Mmmhmm…”

A moment of tense silence hung in the air. “I’m sorry you saw that.”

He shrugged. “It okay.”

“Is it?”

Papyrus chose not to move.

It wasn’t his dad’s fault at all. It was his own fault. They kept telling him to leave over and over knowing that it would be too scary for him, but he looked anyway. So why was dad apologising?

“Can you open your eyes?”

Well… if he _insists._

If it’ll make him _feel better._

Reluctantly, Papyrus slowly cracked open his eyes, finding it not as bright as he expected it to be with his father right in front of him.

“Don’t you gotta help Sas?”

At that, Gaster forced a smile. “Yes. The others are with him. I wanted to check if you were alright. I know seeing all that must have been rather frightening.”

Papyrus managed to keep a straight face. “Not dat bad. Honest. I okay.”

“Really?” the man quirked a brow, “Is that why you’re curled up on the floor in the back of an elevator?”

Oh, right. He was doing that, yes.

“I was sleepy,” Papyrus curled his knees even further into his chest, “I wanted sleepy time.”

With a sceptical frown, Gaster pursed his mouth into a thin line. “There was a perfectly comfortable couch upstairs. A bed, even. You are not much better at lying than Sans is.”

Papyrus averted his gaze, staring down solemnly at his hands. There was so many questions running circles like sheep at the back of his mind, but only one was burning his conscience.

“Umm… what was do to Sas?”

Gaster gestured for Papyrus to come forward—and so he found himself in his father’s lap instead of the cold floor. “What was I doing to Sans?” he cocked a brow.

The sleepy toddler nodded into the man’s much warmer turtleneck. “Uh-huh.”

“Well, if you must know, we were fixing his leg.”

Abruptly, Papyrus flapped his arms in frustration, nearly knocking them both back, “I know dat! I know his leg bad! But dere was the loud BRRR and VRRRRR and stuff…”

He felt his father’s chest deflate as he sighed. “I really need to soundproof the lab.”

“Weellll??!” Papyrus had a funny feeling that it was a bad thing if his question was being beaten around the bush like this.

“I’m not sure how to put it in terms you would understand,” his arms had become tense now. “There was not enough bone left of his knee, so we had to graft it—hmm.” he paused. “Get it from somewhere else.”

Papyrus nodded slowly. “And dats where the VRRRR is?”

“Yes. He is now missing a very small piece of bone from his hip.”

Papyrus cringed. “Dat sounds scary.”

“I’m sure it was scary for you to see, too.”

“And hear! I hear it too!!”

“Yes, you did. That’s why I’m checking on you.”

“It ok! I ok! Make Sas feel better!” Papyrus threw his head back to grin at him—a forced grin, but one that would hopefully reassure his father that he was doing okay after that little incident.

“If you’re sure…” he paused again, “If you would like to talk about it, we can. I’ve finished the most important part of what I needed to do.”

“It ok, honest,” Papyrus repeated, a niggling feeling in the depths of his soul shouting at him _it’s not okay._ But he didn’t care much for that. “It jus funny seeing you all like dat. So cool!”

Gaster smirked, “My work attire is _cool_ , hmm? I suppose it is."

Papyrus giggled at the unlikely word escaping his father’s mouth, pressing himself more firmly into his stomach. “Dun' go way, pwease.” He didn’t want to be left all alone on the floor to mope about his feelings again.

“We can stay here for a little while longer, if you like. But then I will have to go back to work.”

Papyrus felt his stomach turn at the horrible image that came to mind. “You gotta do that stuff to Sas?”

“I've already done what was most vital of me. My assistants are handling the rest.” Oh, good. He didn’t need to anymore of that horrible BRRR stuff to him.

“But den why you gotta go?”

He felt a quiet exhale against the top of his head.

“We cannot stay here on the floor all day. I do have work to do.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t much of a surprise, it was a well-known fact his father was always busy. It was still nice that he found the time to leave his lab to come and find him, though. “You gonna save Sas?”

Gaster smiled weakly, “I’ll do my best.”

“But you gotta…” Papyrus pouted, stretching his legs out and pushing himself more comfortably in his dad’s lap. “You gotta save Sas, okay?”

“I’m not going to let him die, Papyrus. Not if I can help it.”

Papyrus leaned back to find his dad’s face. “Pwomise?”

He sighed, “Yes, I promise.”

Then, his phone started to ring.

Tilting his head with evident tension on his face, Gaster at once retrieved the phone and answered. “Yes?”

_“Gaster? It’s Sans. I’m sorry, but something’s gone wrong…”_


End file.
